Forever
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: Yours.
1. Chapter 1

_**Here we go! My version of what Chryed did next. :) Might take me a bit longer to update**** at the minute, sorry. :(**_

_**If there is anything you want to happen, or anything you don't, please let me know and I'll see if I can do it.**_

_**FF's new review system means I can't automatically respond to guest reviews, but I am truly grateful, if you decide to leave one. :)**_

_**Hope you enjoy it. They're on a plane! :) xxxxxx**_

* * *

"How much?"

Christian gaped at the glossy page of the inflight magazine, open on his lap, amazed at the price printed next to a gold watch. He thought he had exclaimed quietly enough not to wake Syed, but the head on his shoulder shifted and he tenderly kissed his dark hair, murmuring,

"Hush. Go back to sleep."

Yawning, wide, like a drowsy child, like his daughter at bedtime, Syed opened and closed his eyes and frowned.

"Six thousand pounds…" He shuddered, stretched and blinked, his face lighting into a sweet smile the moment he saw Christian. "Oh, hello!"

"Hello sleepy head. Have you got enough room?" Christian made a valiant attempt to make himself smaller, crushing his arms to his sides to give Syed more space in the cramped economy class seat.

"Have I ever, sitting next to you? Where are we?"

"On a plane." Christian explained gently, thinking that Syed might still be groggy and befuddled, having been almost comatose since the moment the plane had levelled out after take-off and he had released his agonising, nervous grip on Christian's hand.

Syed gave Christian a pitying look, pursing his lips and raising one eyebrow.

"I know that, idiot. I mean whereabouts?"

"In the sky." Grinning mischievously, Christian winced at the pinch on his leg. "Ow! I'm not sure, somewhere over the Atlantic. About four hours left to go. Are you hungry? They brought round something that might have been fish. You looked so peaceful I didn't want to disturb you."

"So you ate mine? No I'm fine."

Flushing, Christian hung his head.

"Guilty as charged. I was starving. If it's any comfort, it wasn't very nice and now I've got indigestion…" He grimaced and pushed his fist against his chest. Syed indicated that he should move forward and set about vigorously rubbing his back, kneading with expert fingers, gradually providing some relief from the griping pain.

"Better?" Syed asked.

"Bit. I need to belch really loudly…"

"Charming."

"Oop, no. I think we're all right... A rather fit young steward keeps roaming about offering me his nuts."

"Oh does he now! You don't have to oblige. Tell him he can stuff 'em." Syed pouted huffily then laughed and wrinkled his nose. "Wish I'd had time for a shower. Stinky Masood. Stinky Clarke-Masood." He corrected himself, beaming with happiness and relishing his new name with wonder.

"Me too. I'm sure there's a bit of Samosa wedged where it shouldn't be. We'll have one as soon as we get there…" Christian gazed longingly at Syed's soft mouth. "..Together."

"Oh yeah?" Syed dipped his eyelids, pupils widening. "That'll go down well. Hello Jane, Mr and Mrs Clarke, lovely to see you! Must have a shower, because we reek of sex from doing it on the floor before we left. Things might get a bit splashy. Hope your silicon sealant's in good repair! How come you don't smell that bad?"

Christian sniffed, inhaling eight different varieties of men's perfume and aftershave emanating from his clothes and body.

"The nuts guy plied me with duty free samples from his trolley. I hope he wasn't trying to tell me something!"

"I'll tell him something…" Syed grumbled and lifted Christian's hand, inhaling the scent on his wrist and gagging slightly.

"Bloody hell, what's that?"

Bending to join him, their heads touching, Christian's eyes started to water.

"Eau de Walford Canal? I think it's called Séquestré."

"It's rank." Syed placed his fingers on a vein, feeling his pulse beat slow and strong, carrying his blood to his heart. "I love you."

"I know you do. I love you too. More than anything." Real tears replaced the irritation in Christian's eyes and he struggled to keep them from spilling out, scared that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop and the plane would be forced to make an emergency stop to eject the wailing madman.

"Hey! Stop it, you. I hope those are happy tears?" Syed touched his cheek softly and rummaged in the pocket of his jeans for a tissue, elbowing Christian in the process.

"I'll pretend it's the aftershave cocktail, making me allergic." Christian glanced at the other passengers, thankful that they seemed to be either engrossed in music, magazines, watching a film, or asleep.

"You big soft bugger. I'm here! We're here! We're on a journey…I've just thought!" Syed decided to try to lighten the mood, tired of sadness, worn out by angst. "You'd better promise me you're not going to start talking in an embarrassing American accent the minute we land."

"Hi y'all..." Christian drawled, regaining his equilibrium.

"Yeah, that. Don't do that. You can wear a cowboy hat though. All the time."

"Even in bed?"

"Especially in bed. What on earth are we going to do for money?" As soon as the question left his lips, Syed basked in an interesting realisation that, for now, he really didn't care, that in the scheme of things, as long as they were together, it was of no importance and that they would somehow get by.

"Oh we'll manage." Christian answered, sounding as confident as he could, fighting away a tiny nugget of fear that Syed might decide to embark on another hare brained scheme, choosing to trust him.

"Yes we will. We can live in a tent, by a lake, up a mountain. Because I can't quit you, Christian Clarke-Masood."

Christian moved uncomfortably in his seat, bashing his knees against the one in front; causing the occupant, a smartly dressed young woman with her blonde hair scraped tightly into a high ponytail, to turn around to tut, a noise that died away quickly when she saw the pair of them, turning to a flirtatious titter.

"Sorry!" Christian trilled, adding to Syed, in a whispered aside. "My husband's cruelly turning me on."

"Cruelly turning himself on too. Think of Mo Harris in the nude."

"Now I never want to do it again… I wonder if we'll miss the Square." With a rush of excitement, Christian contrasted in his mind the claustrophobic, noisy market with the wide expanses of scenery he expected them to experience and doubted it, but he saw Syed sag a little, despondent.

"The people, family, friends. They'll always be in our lives though, wherever we are. Won't they?"

Sensing a need for reassurance, Christian smoothed Syed's hair away from his forehead.

"Of course they will. We can go back, visit. If you want to?"

"How long can you stay away from the Minute Mart? Someday. Not for a while. Onwards and upwards, places to see…" Syed flipped the plastic window cover higher and stared out across the carpet of clouds, seemingly so solid that he felt he could wriggle out and walk across them, towards the edges, lit golden by the rays of the setting sun, into infinity. He thought of his mother's face, imagined her cutting the ties that bound them with small, delicate silver scissors, setting him free with a jolt of propulsion. His father's pride in him, so desperately sought, that he knew he would cherish, that he would work hard, eventually repay everything, endeavour to finally feel it was truly deserved. It was the remembered image of Tamwar, standing diffident and unhappy, that made a lump form in his throat and he swallowed, turning to Christian.

"Aw, Tambo decorating my suitcase…"

"Ha! Bless him. We won't have any trouble finding that on the carousel. I was expecting you to take the label off the minute we got on the tube."

"Were you?" Syed pressed closer to Christian for comfort and tweaked at the lobe of his ear. "Why would I? I'm proud to be just married. Not sure we would have got the cans through security. I was a bit surprised to see the big gay bow making an appearance. I thought you only did that to wind me up."

"I do. That's why I brought it. I couldn't go anywhere without you. Not this time. Not anymore."

Syed opened his mouth to receive Christian's kiss, tasting him, lost, the drone of the aircraft's engine fading, his senses focused, aware of nothing except the scratch of stubble against his chin, the warmth of Christian's tongue inside him.

"Ahem."

They reluctantly broke away at the stewards cough. Tall and slender, with close cropped hair, his pale grey eyes widened at his first proper sight of Syed, glowing, ethereal with contentment and suddenly seemed to forget his previous attraction to Christian. Smiling seductively, he gestured towards his trolley.

"Could I offer you some nuts, sir?"

Under the cover of the magazine, Syed slid his hand along the inside of Christian's thigh and keeping a straight face, primly responded,

"No thank you. I'm married."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Still on a plane! :) xxx**_

* * *

"Congratulations!"

The steward's smile fixed rigidly for an instant until he rapidly recovered his composure, letting professional hospitality mask his disappointment.

"Some drinks?"

Biting his lower lip, Christian slid his eyes around to watch Syed sink lower in his seat and answered in strangulated tones, trying not to laugh,

"Please… I'll have a vodka tonic and I think my husband would like an orange juice. Sy?"

"Yes. Thank you…" Waiting until the steward had placed their glasses on the fold down tables in front of them, taking infinite care with the small paper doily's and moved, out of earshot, along the aisle, Syed spluttered,

"Did I really just say that? I'm so lame."

"Haa! Yes you are!" Christian took Syed's hand, under the magazine, and placed it on his groin, pushing against it. "Are you positive you don't fancy joining an exclusive club?"

A line appeared between Syed's brows and he regarded Christian quizzically, his thumb automatically rubbing at the base of Christian's erection, through the denim of his jeans.

"What? Mensa? I doubt they'd let me in after my recent behaviour… Oh! That club! We couldn't. Knowing my luck, we'd get caught. Or I'd hit my head on something. Or I'd get sucked down the toilet and shoot out in a block of ice."

"The sucked bit's right." Reluctantly, Christian moved Syed's hand away and lifted the magazine. "Oh shit, look who's been perving at me." Grinning, he held up the page to reveal an advert, a black and white picture of a male model, posing, louche in an unbuttoned shirt, smouldering sexily at a bottle of perfume.

"Aw, Michael! I knew the name of that stench you're wearing rang a bell. It's ridiculous how handsome he is, isn't it?"

Christian flicked at the end of Michael's perfect nose and closed the magazine with a harsh snap.

"He's ridiculous." Christian cursed himself for sounding so tetchy, jealous, noticing that Syed had recoiled at his sharpness and was nervously fiddling with his glass, running his long, elegant fingers around the rim, prodding at an ice cube and letting it freeze his skin. "And silly and gorgeous. He's a good friend. He's been worried about you." Gently, Christian touched Syed's arm.

"I know. I kept ignoring his calls. Did he ring you?"

Licking the end of his finger, Syed left it in his mouth, gazing at Christian with soulful eyes, making his heart cartwheel with love and care and fear.

"It's okay. I sent him a text. Rory will look after him."

"I don't know how Rory copes."

Christian flipped open the page again and flapped it at Syed.

"Me neither. Look at him. It must be a terrible hardship." He laughed and stowed the magazine beside his seat. Leaning across Syed, he peered through the small window into the darkening sky, wanting a return to their hope, their unity, needing to dispel a ripple of trepidation that had crept stealthily into his soul.

"Night…" He pointed to a star, twinkling in time with the red light on the wing's tip. "…Love you more than that one."

Stroking the cropped bristle of hair on the base of Christian's skull, tracing the lines of his bones, Syed smiled.

"And that one?"

"Yep. That one, that one…" Christian picked out the glittering pinpricks, attempting to encompass the whole universe. …"That one, all of them. Every miniscule speck, each new world forming and old one dying…"

"Christian…"

Syed took Christian's face in his hands and kissed him, urgently, passionately, yearning to convey the entirety of his adoration, to transfer it physically with the pressure of his lips and his body.

"Easy!" Christian murmured, reaching up to dim the lights above them. "We'll roll the plane over."

"Looping the loop to our doom. I've just scared the shit out of myself…" Syed looked quickly away from the thin sliver of moon that seemed to race alongside, remembering the nothingness beneath the metal at his feet and announced, "It's five hours ago."

"What is, babe?"

"Now. Time difference."

Syed mind buzzed with calculations, working out how many journeys it would take, how many zones he would have to cross to take him into the past, to rewrite history, to undo the decisions he had made, to eradicate the hurt.

Seeing him thoughtfully gazing into the middle distance, Christian gave him a nudge, hoping he would resurface, made lonely by his sudden withdrawal.

"What's going on in there?" He rapped softly at Syed's temple with his knuckles.

"Inventing a time machine…" The effort made Syed weak with tiredness and he smothered a yawn. "…I wish we were in bed."

"God, me too." Christian twisted his neck from side to side, hearing a crunching noise as he did so, the sinews stretching taut and painful. "I did myself an injury smashing into that table."

Recalling how Christian had turned as they crashed to the floor of the restaurant, protecting him from the fall, taking the brunt and making sure he landed on top of him, Syed curled his fingers into his.

"We've broken a lot of stuff over the years."

'Mostly each other's hearts.' Christian thought and squeezed Syed's hand.

"Should have taken out rampant sex insurance." He suggested.

"Ha! Our premiums would have been astronomical. What's going to happen to our things? I gave the keys back."

Christian expected to feel home sick, rootless, nostalgic, thinking of their old flat, yet he was shocked at how little he missed it, wincing inwardly at a memory of glass smashing, doors slamming, coldness, absence and sadness, aware that the only sanctuary he needed was sitting beside him.

"Rox is going to see to it. Put the personal and the good things in storage, sell the rest, probably to Dagenham Dave and send us the money."

"She'll get about three pounds fifty for that bloody sofa." Syed pulled a face. "Actually, she'll have to pay them to take it away."

"You chose it!"

"Did I fuck!"

Convinced he was right; Christian pouted and declared archly,

"You so did. The old one's too big, you said, it won't fit through the door, you said."

"It wouldn't! I measured. There wasn't enough room to turn it and you wouldn't let me take it to bits. We would have had to take the window out. I never chose that piddly little wicker effort."

"In the shop, I distinctly heard you say, we'll have that one, it's nice and compact. Practical, you said."

Syed grunted indignantly.

"Only because it was five minutes before they were about to close and it was the one nearest to me. The sales assistant looked as if she wanted to commit hara kiri with her pen and any previous pleasure she'd got from swooning at your muscles had long since been destroyed by you longingly stroking the one that cost three thousand pounds and was even bigger, lying prone on it, making eyes at me and bleating; this one Sy! I want this one! You said it was lovely and ideal. Don't try to deny it!"

The steward appeared silently beside them, bearing an expression of polite concern and asked in hushed tones,

"Is everything all right, sirs?"

Squirming, embarrassed that he had raised his voice, Syed blurted an apology and continued in a whisper,

"Didn't you?"

"Yes, yes. I'm shocked you didn't spot the sarcasm dripping from every word. I thought you really liked it and I'd already over ruled the foul curtains."

Christian huffily took a long swig of his drink and Syed tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, seeking to appease him.

"One day, I'll buy you a sofa just like the old one. I promise."

"Ah. Well. There might be no need."

"Eh? Are we going to sit on the floor? Or do you want a different sort now? You haven't formed an unhealthy attachment to wicker, have you? The creaking used to make you swear your head off and I never got the yoghurt out that Yas spilled." Syed spotted Christian's shifty glance to the overhead baggage compartments. "Christian?" He lowered his voice to scold him, "What did you do?"

"I couldn't bear to get rid of it. It's in Steve and Sam's garage."

"Garage? They haven't got a car. Why have they got a garage?"

"For Sam's Star Trek collection that he won't have in the flat in case he's revealed as the secret nerdy geek he truly is and now, our proper sofa. I suppose you're mad with me."

Syed's shoulders started to shake and he bit the edge of his fist to quell the burst of hilarity bubbling in his throat. Wiping a tear of mirth from his cheek, he shook his head at Christian.

"After all that's happened, we're thousands of feet in the air, heading for America, squabbling over a sofa, which is probably covered in a selection of Klingon and Captain Jean Luc Picard action figures, lounging about in provocative poses…"

"Janeway." Christian corrected, "Sam's now strictly original and Voyager."

Savouring the brave budding shoots of a return to normality, cherishing a tentative belief that the mountain of issues between them might turn out to be as easy to climb as a molehill, Syed beamed at Christian.

"Whatever. I'm not mad, you big oaf. I'm delighted."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Off the plane and nearly out of the airport! :) xxxx**_

* * *

Christian unbuckled his seat belt and flexed his hand, studying the marks left by Syed's fingernails, red crescents scored into his palm.

"There you go. Not dead. I'll never understand why you get so freaked out by flying."

"I don't!" Syed protested, stretching with relief and secretly wanting to whoop with joy and dance a small jig at having landed safely. "I like flying. It's the taking off and landing part I'm not so keen on. Have I hurt you?"

Quickly making a fist, hiding the evidence, Christian smiled and stood up, pulling their coats down from the overhead locker.

"No. I am made of iron. Here… Passport. Forms…"

"Ta." Syed flipped open his passport and pulled a face at his picture. "State of my hair! Was there a force ten gale that day? Oh no, I remember. You mussed it up before I went in…" He waggled his finger accusingly at Christian, who was looking the picture of innocence, neatly folding his jacket over his arm. "…And then kept leaning under the curtain and prodding me in the knob. No wonder I look like an axe murderer."

"Aw, you don't! You look sexy. Mine makes me look constipated."

"A constipated hunk of hotness. I got this done when we were going to take Yas to Disneyworld, didn't I? When I thought I was the dog's bollocks…" Syed mused glumly. "…Before it turned out I was just bollocks."

"Stop it. You're not. We will take her one day, won't we? When she's older."

Sensing the sad doubt and need beneath Christian's question, Syed nodded firmly.

"Definitely."

Tired of politely waiting for people to pass down the aisle, Christian spotted a gap in the queue and seized Syed's wrist. "Let's get out of here." He narrowed his eyes impishly and said in an American accent, "Welcome to the good ol' U S of A."

"Kill me now." Syed groaned. Following slowly behind, shuffling as the passengers filed to the exit door, he began to fret, nervously picking at the back pocket of Christian's jeans. "Christian..."

"What hun?"

"I am going to get in, aren't I?"

"I don't see why not. Your online visa wavering thing was approved."

"Hmm." Unconvinced, Syed frowned. "You're meant to do it at least three days before you travel, not with your laptop balanced on a bench at the tube station, nicking someone else's Wi-Fi while your husband nags you to hurry up because the train's coming. I might get sent straight home."

"Oh, that would be a shame. You had a nice trip on a plane though…" Christian stopped abruptly, making Syed cannon into him and turned to stroke his cheek. "Don't stress. If that happens, we'll stowaway somewhere else. Iceland again, get jobs packing fish."

"What a beautiful romantic notion!"

"You know I go wild for you in a hygienic hat." Christian resumed the trudge towards the doors, inhaling deeply, catching, above the engine fuel and the tired aroma of the various duty free samples, the scent of pine, the sea and warmth, blowing in on the night air. He felt his nerves tingle with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Reaching behind him he sought and found the reassurance of Syed's fingers, quickly curling around his own and muttered under his breath,

"So this is how it begins."

The long pink ribbon snapped free from the rucksack strap and Christian carefully wound it around, never taking his eyes from the gate across the baggage hall. The carousel rotated beside him, rippling rubber, the piles of luggage wobbling precariously in a slow circular procession, while the owners jostled and vied to retrieve their possessions, each harbouring a latent fear that theirs would be the one suitcase that never appeared again. Leaning back on a tall steel pillar, Christian squinted, the effort of intently waiting for a glimpse of Syed's face and the glare of bright lights causing a pain that throbbed at his temples. He felt like a dog chained outside a supermarket, desperate for its owner to reappear, scared to blink, in case, in that one moment of blindness he would be evaded and abandoned. His heart leapt with joy at the sight of Syed, tousled, grumpy, blowing a strand of hair away from his forehead and waited, grinning, as he weaved his way through the throng towards him.

"I told you not to beg for a strip search."

Syed laughed and grabbed his case, still adorned with Tamwar's sign.

"That's customs isn't it? Got that to look forward to. They were very nice, very thorough, very courteous, slightly suspicious, slightly sinister… You had no trouble getting in then? They didn't get you to own up about your criminal record?"

Puzzled, Christian met Syed's eyes, heavy with exhaustion but still managing to twinkle with merriment.

"A speeding ticket and forgetting to settle a tab at the Vic?" He asked.

"Did you? Naughty! I meant the crimes against fashion."

"You cheeky bastard." Christian tweaked the front of Syed's crumpled black shirt. "I don't know what you mean."

Syed coughed, saying "Gilet" at the same time, adding "that jumper" and ducking as Christian went to swipe his head.

The air conditioning was icy cool, yet Christian knew that, as soon as they left the airport, their November in London clothes would make them swelter.

"Yeah well, we're going to spend the next ninety days wearing sarongs."

"No we're fucking not…" Syed grumbled. "Ninety days. It sounds such a long time. I shudder to think what Mum and Tambo have packed for me. There's not much room in there for anything except the laptop." He bent to pull at the corner of the sign, intending to remove it and Christian stopped him.

"Aw, don't! There'll be ninety pairs of pants. I thought I saw something gaudily colourful with checks in there too. Shall we?"

Christian winced as he stepped forward, his muscles still recovering from the cramped conditions on the flight.

"You okay? I told you to walk about more…" Syed slipped into an uncannily accurate impression of his mother's voice. "You'll get one of those DVD's."

"Ha! I'm fine. Don't forget, at customs, we have nothing to declare except our love for each other! And a clown's shirt."

"And a granddad jersey. Christian…" Syed nervously bit the skin on the inside of his cheek and retracted the handle on his case, listening to the slide and click, wishing it could distract him from a sudden worry.

"What's up, stud?"

"Jane. How much does she know about what happened? She was never my greatest fan anyway."

Christian touched the nape of his neck, smoothing at his jaw with his thumb.

"The words glass houses and stones spring to mind, she's hardly perfect. She'll be fine. I told her we'd broken up because I thought I wasn't enough for you, that you'd be better off without me." The agony of the notion caused a minute spasm, a little rippling tic beneath Christian's eye.

"That's not true." Syed protested, unshed tears welling up, his voice muffled and strangulated.

"It's what I thought was true."

"I'm so sorry."

Urgently, Syed hurled himself into Christian's arms, knocking his case over, making it fall with a loud crash that echoed high into the vaulted glass ceiling. Above Syed's head, Christian flashed an apologetic grimace at the heavily armed security guard who had turned to inspect them, his hand hovering over his gun belt.

"Hush, hush. I'm sorry too. For so much stuff, for not noticing that you were floundering…"

"Floundering?" Syed giggled weakly into Christian's chest. "Makes me sound like I was flapping about on a river bank, gasping for air."

Christian kissed away the tears and gently extracted himself from the embrace. Righting the suitcase, he handed it to Syed.

"Maybe you were. Hey, she bought you a ticket, didn't she? You're here and now we get to go on a sky train. We can pretend we're in a science fiction film…" Christian checked his watch, realising his body had no idea of the real time. "….And if we scoot through customs quickly, we can make it to a club on the beach!"

"You're kidding, right?" Sniffing, Syed eyed him suspiciously, nurturing a pressing desire for the hottest of showers and then to be allowed to sleep for a week.

Christian raised an eyebrow, keeping his expression inscrutable.

"Am I?" He slung his arm around Syed's shoulder and forcibly propelled him towards the exit, drawling, "C'mon Sundance. When we get outside and we get to the horses, whatever happens, just remember one thing."

"The accent, Christian. No. Please. No. And what are you on about? Remember what thing?"

"That I love you."


	4. Chapter 4

_**In a car now. I will eventually get them to their destination! :)**_

_**Hope you enjoy. xxxxxx**_

* * *

"Sis!"

Syed hung back and looked through the window of a lingerie shop, seeing Jane reflected in the glass. Before she disappeared under the onslaught of Christian's hug, Syed noticed that her deep tan and the frivolity of her spaghetti strapped floral dress couldn't quite mask the look of harassed exhaustion, the lines etched more deeply on her forehead.

"Sy! Why are you gawping at women's underwear?" Grinning broadly, Christian beckoned him over and Syed went to stand a little behind him, cautiously studying Jane's face, imagining censure, disapproval, hovering in a dance of shyness, unsure of whether to go in for a hug, a more formal kissing of both cheeks, or just to nod and bleat, "Hi."

Seemingly struggling with the same dilemma, there was an embarrassing pause before Jane opened her arms wide and smiled.

"Syeeed! Welcome to Miami." He spotted her nose wrinkle as she grabbed his shoulders and glanced towards Christian, returning his wink with a rueful shake of the head.

"Pair of you look shattered…" She laughed and waved her hand in front of her. "…And in desperate need of a shower. Come on. Let's get you home. I'm in the park and ride I'm afraid." Jane set off purposefully and, as the double doors slid open at her approach and they were assailed by the warmth of the night air, both instantly suffering, sweating in their coats, she turned and spotted Tamwar's sign.

"Congratulations by the way. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it…" She hesitated, remembering Christian's distraught explanation of the havoc that had ensued, adding lamely, "Did you have a nice time?"

Reaching for Syed, gripping onto his fingers, Christian smiled gently into his troubled eyes.

"It was eventful."

"It was the best day. The best." Syed insisted. He kept his gaze, unwavering, on Christian and nearly crashed his suitcase into the side of the waiting coach.

"Can I get that for you, sir?"

The driver, florid and gruff in crisp white short sleeved shirt, gently relieved Syed of the case and he blundered up the steps, drunk with tiredness.

He was glad he had the support of Christian's arm around his shoulder on the short walk through the car park, the strangeness of his rapid transportation to a new life, a different country coupled with his travel weariness, was making him feel light headed, ethereal. They wove their way, Jane frantically looking from left to right, obviously uncertain as to where she had parked, Christian's impatience rising, bickering as only siblings do, until they finally arrived at an ancient, battered, cream and beige Buick estate.

"Is that it?" Christian asked, disappointed.

"What were you expecting? A convertible Chevy? A Lexus? It's Dad's car, remember." Jane rolled her eyes at him and unlocked the doors.

"True. Tight-fisted old bastard. Can I drive?"

"Hardly!" Jane snorted. "You're not insured, you don't know the way and you're dead on your feet. Anyway, what's wrong with my driving?"

"Where do I start?" Grumbling, Christian heaved their luggage into the boot and slid into the passenger side while Syed slumped onto the back seat, taking off his jacket with relief and twitching at the damp underarms of his shirt.

"Christian doesn't think anyone drives as well as him." He commented.

"Very true Syeed, very true." Jane revved the engine and the car shuddered and stalled, the exhaust belching a plume of black smoke. "Don't say anything!" She shot Christian a warning glare, as he turned round to titter at Syed and, on her second attempt, jerkily drew out of the parking space and drove onto the freeway.

Lost in a reverie, Syed remembered the last time he had seen Christian drive, when they had borrowed Michael's car to take Yasmin on a trip to the seaside. He found himself curiously aroused by a mental picture of Christian's hands strong on the wheel. He watched the lights and the palm trees blur past outside, half listening to the conversation going on in the front, recalling how they had squabbled jokingly about directions, the way they had both sung at the top of their voices to tunes on the radio, happy and untroubled.

"So she's no better?" Christian studied Jane's profile, pressing his foot on an imaginary brake when she almost ran a red light.

"She has good days and bad days, but no, not really. She wanted to stay up to see you. I expect the drugs will have wiped her out, though."

Seeing how tense and care worn she seemed, Christian gave her knee a squeeze, hoping it wouldn't make her veer into the next lane and wipe out their new life under the wheels of an oncoming truck.

"There's always tomorrow. Is Dad looking after her?"

"As if." Jane scowled angrily. "Esther, her friend from next door, is sitting with her. Dad's at some bar, getting pissed with his cronies. God forbid he could actually interrupt his routine to help."

"Aw, sis. Has it been a nightmare?"

She laughed, with no mirth in the sound, a short, dry bark.

"Buckets of fun. The weather helps and the beach. It's so good to see you, Christian. How are Bobby and Lucy?"

"Lucy's wonderful." Christian smiled to himself, profoundly grateful for her part in the subterfuge that had brought him and Syed together again, ignoring Jane's amazed double take. "And Bobby's given me something he made for you at school."

Jane pulled dangerously close to the car in front and its taillights showed a glisten of tears in her eyes.

"Oh bless him…" She sniffed, recovering herself from the brink of a sob. "…I can't wait to see him. I had a lovely email from Peter the other day." Suddenly mindful of the silent presence in the back of the car, she glanced into the rear view mirror. "How are your family, Syeed?"

Crossly thinking that she knew, full well, how his father was, as she had spoken to him on the phone, Syed managed to answer pleasantly,

"Very well, thank you, though Tambo's burns still trouble him and he misses Afia. They're pulling together…"

'Trying to get out of the mess I got them in.' He clenched his fists tightly in his lap.

"…Huge thanks for my ticket."

"You're welcome."

She didn't mention the futile attempt at dissuading Christian, her doubts, yet Syed sensed them hanging in the fusty air along with the faint sickly vanilla smell from an ancient car freshener and the fading reek of Christian's Séquestré.

"I'll pay you back, soon as I can."

'Probably when I'm a thousand years old.' He pondered the amount of money he would have to find to make all his promises come true and felt sick.

"Don't worry. Just make Christian happy."

Christian leaned over his seat and ruffled Syed's hair, tipping his chin up to see him properly, to take in his tired, tousled beauty.

"He already does."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Here's some more! In a bungalow now. :) xxx**_

* * *

"What happened to the other place?"

Christian held back the rusting metal insect screen with distaste and waited while Jane fumbled for the right key.

"The apartment in the swanky high rise on Ocean Drive, with the roof top pool? The one you never visited? The one that only existed in your head? Pensions don't go far, Christian, not with medical bills to pay… After you, Syeed."

On Jane's instruction, Syed obediently trundled the wheels of his case over the threshold, blinking in the soft glow from a table lamp and smiled as a large, elderly black lady scrutinised him from over the top of a pair of bifocals.

"Well, ain't you pretty?" She beamed back, lifting the remote control from the arm of her chair and muting the sound on the plasma television, the wail of police sirens suddenly silent. "No way you're Linda's boy."

Christian stepped from the shadows and dumped his rucksack onto an overstuffed sofa, briefly dazzled by the gaudy pattern of blowsy orange roses and held out his hand.

"No. That'll be me, Christian. You must be Esther."

Christian crossed the room in two strides to greet Esther, his head nearly colliding with the slowly turning steel blades of the ceiling fan. Syed suffered a momentary panic, imagining their new life cut short in a freak accident, the prospect of standing weeping, splattered with Christian's brains making him want to cry and laugh hysterically in equal measure.

Stifling a yawn, Syed reminded himself he was tired and prone to flights of hideous fancy, relieved when Christian's quick move to the side deftly avoided his decapitation.

Esther glanced to a framed photograph on the table beside her, Christian in his school uniform, hair brushed neatly to the side, grinning impishly at the camera with a hint of imperiousness in his eyes and nodded, enclosing his proffered hand within her own, patting and squeezing it delightedly.

"Such a handsome man! Just like Linda said..."

"Really?" Surprised, Christian had expected his Mother's description to be more along the lines of, 'he thinks he's god's gift, he's an awful son, and he never calls.'

"She hasn't been well." Jane butted in dryly. "Who wants what? Esther, can I get you anything?"

"I'm okay darling; I'll be getting along now…" She struggled to rise, reaching for the stick on the floor at her feet. Allowing Christian to prise her gently upright, she nodded towards Syed, asking kindly. "What's your name honey?"

"Syed." They all answered at once and laughed, Christian adding proudly, "My husband."

Esther whistled.

"Well ain't that something! Your mom and dad never said."

Seeing the corner of Christian's lip curl and anticipating a scathing retort, Jane dug him in the ribs and took Esther's arm.

"They're newlyweds. Did she wake at all?"

"No, sleeping like a baby."

"Good. Thank you for sitting with her, Esther. Christian, see Esther home."

"I'll do it." Syed jumped forward, sensing that Christian was on the verge of kicking off about their unmentioned marriage and spotting that Jane was grimacing furiously at him in an attempt to prevent a tirade.

"Bless you; it's only a short step next door…"

Syed watched her shuffle across the thin grass, feet slopping over the side of her slippers, sinking into the sand beneath, waiting until she negotiated the few steps onto her verandah and disappeared, with a wave, inside her bungalow. He dug his fingers into the crumbling white stucco by the door, attempting to tune out the hushed row from within by focusing on the soothing beat of waves on the shore and the insistent whine of a mosquito, circling around his ear.

"Keep your voice down Christian. You know what they're like!"

"Yeah. I do. Especially him. I thought she'd be pleased!" Christian tetchily threw his jacket on top of his bag and struggled out of his jumper, his shirt riding up, treating Syed to a broad expanse of bare midriff as he re-entered the house.

"She is! She probably forgot to mention it. She's old. Her medication makes her absentminded…" Jane picked up the discarded clothes and searched for somewhere to put them, finally dumping them in exactly the same place.

"If Zainab and Masood can accept and celebrate the idea, I don't see what their fucking problem is. Can you, Sy?"

"Can I what?" Syed pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the onset of a tension headache and pretended not to have heard any of the argument.

"Oh leave it, Christian!" Jane snapped. "Syeed, do you want some tea? You look ready for bed. You two can go in my room; dad's pretending to be considerate by sleeping in the spare."

"Don't be daft, sis!"

"No! Where will you go?"

Christian and Syed protested in unison and she grinned at them.

"Aw. There's a put you up in the sun room, I'll be fine in there."

"No you won't." Christian insisted firmly. "We'll take that…Can we borrow a towel? Sy left in a bit of a rush."

Both eyeing the small case, Syed said optimistically.

"There might be one in there…"

"Is it a Tardis? Ninety pairs of pants and a clown shirt, I'm telling you." Christian swept it up with ease, tucking it under one arm while he leant to retrieve his own stuff. "Jane, Jane, show us the shower!" He sang loudly and Jane slapped him on the wrist, raising her finger to her lips.

"Will you stop it! How much did he have to drink on the plane, Syeed? It's this way."

They filed along the darkened hallway, Jane whispering,

"Bathroom's at the very end, you're through here…"

They stepped down into a vestibule, Christian cursing under his breath as he stubbed his toe on a golf bag, managing to grab it before it fell and noisily deposited its contents. Jane let them in to a wide room, windows on all sides, moonlight streaming onto the tiled floor. "…Are you sure you're going to be alright?" She switched on the light and pointed doubtfully to a narrow metal fold up bed.

"Fine, don't worry!" Christian reassured her brightly, envisaging nights of total agony and permanent damage to his spine. He looked about him, taking in the rest of the furniture, starting in alarm at the sight of a wicker sofa and two chairs clustered around a coffee table. Opening his mouth wide, he gaped in horror at Syed, behind Jane's back.

"If you're certain…" She gathered up her own night things. "There are fresh towels in the cupboard by the sink. Night night… I'm so glad you're here."

As soon as the door had closed behind her, Christian gripped Syed's shoulders and hissed,

"Have you seen, Sy? It's here! It's followed us! The wicker beast! I swear it's the same one."

"Ha! There is no escape and this time it's brought reinforcements." Giggling, Syed crept up to the sofa and gave it a kick, making it creak ominously. "I think we're safe. More importantly, we seem to have to sleep on a camp bed."

"How very insulting!" Christian laughed and hugged Syed. "Good things though."

"And what good things might they be, pray?" Nestling against the security of Christian's chest, Syed knew he could name at least one.

"Listen… No shouting drunks kicked out of the Vic, no punch up with girls shrieking, 'leave it! 'e's not worf it! No cars, no bass bleeding through from upstairs' crappy sound system, no dog bark echoing down an alley, just the sound of the sea."

"And your heart." Syed slid his hand beneath the fabric of Christian's shirt, curling his fingers in his chest hair, listening to the slow steady beat.

"You have my heart." Christian kissed the top of Syed's head. "Shame you're such a rancid article. Do you want to go in the shower first? Try not to stumble into my mother's bedroom by mistake; the joy could see her off. I'll stay here, count your pants and keep my eye on the satanic wicker."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hello! I'm putting this up early because it's been a while, if that makes sense! So I hope it's okay. :) xxx**_

* * *

"You have no idea how wonderful that was. Smell me! I'm delicious!"

Syed put down his dirty clothes and twirled his wash bag by the handle, stopping mid arc at the sight of Christian, hunched on the wicker sofa, staring into space.

"Christian? Did you have to sit on it to stop it attacking?"

"What?" Christian looked at him in confusion, the realisation that he was referring to the sofa, filtering through slowly. "Oh! Ha!"

Despite his efforts to sound amused, Syed knew that something was troubling him and searched his mind for possible reasons; bewildered as to what could have happened in the twenty minutes they'd been apart.

"You okay?" Syed tightened the bright beach towel around his waist, the first one he had found on the top of the pile in the cupboard, patterned with pink parasols and vivid red parakeets. He crossed the room and squatted beside Christian, laying his hand gently on his knee, droplets from his damp hair making small dark circles on the denim of Christian's jeans.

"Yeah." Seeing Syed's unconvinced frown, Christian stroked his hair. "Yes. Fine. Look!" He picked up a shirt from his lap and waggled it. "Green tee. Result."

"Indeed. So I've got two tops and a mountain of pants?"

"I never got past this…" Christian confessed, standing wearily. He folded the tee shirt neatly on the coffee table and smiled at Syed. "…I thought, you should take the 'ooh get her' camp bed and I'll sleep on the floor."

"Oh fuck off!" Crossly, Syed slid onto the seat vacated by Christian, the wicker frame catching at the back of his knees, little twiggy shards jabbing into his skin, increasing his annoyance. "Why should you? You'll wreck your back and a lizard might crawl in your ear. Stop being a martyr. I'll go on here…" He scowled malevolently at the cream cushions, irrationally blaming the sofa for Christian's change of mood.

"I've slept on ours remember. You'll wake up feeling like you've been concertinaed…" Christian eyed the narrow metal bed dubiously. "…It'll be cosy."

"Cosy is good, isn't it? What's up? Have you seen your dad?"

Impressed and touched that Syed had come close to the truth; Christian leaned to kiss him, tasting the mint sweetness of toothpaste and closing his eyes with pleasure at the smell of his newly washed hair.

"No babe." He murmured sadly. "He isn't back yet. Thought he might have been here to meet us, but hey, what can I expect. Families, eh? I'll go and wash my woes away. See if you can get in that bed without it folding up and squashing you; we've had a long day." Christian stroked Syed's cheek and wearily left the room.

Syed sat motionless, looking out through the windows at the moon, listening to the rhythmic crash of waves on the shore, thinking of his own family, his father's words as he had left the square and smiled, hardly daring to believe them. He slapped his thighs and stood, in an attempt to galvanise himself into action. He took his laptop from the case and fished his phone from his jacket pocket, laying them side by side on the table, making a list in his head of all the people he needed to contact in the morning, with Amira at the top. The thought of being able to talk to Yasmin made his eyes blur with tears and he rubbed at them, taking a deep breath, focusing his attention on neatly folding his dirty clothes. He hunted around for somewhere to put them and a place to hang his jacket. Drawing a blank, he threw them all on the sofa and abandoned his plan to unpack the rest of his things, wondering how on earth he and Christian were going to manage for the rest of their stay. He spotted a sleeve poking from the side of his case and smirked, grabbing on to the top and pulling it over his head before he discarded the towel and climbed under the duvet. The sag of the canvas beneath him and the straining grind of the metal frame made him doubt he would ever be able to sleep, yet the moment his head touched the pillow he felt his eyes become heavy. He fought to stay awake, concerned that Christian would find him sleeping, not want to wake him and carry out his plan of spending the night on the floor, until the drag of drowsiness beat him and he drifted away.

"Sy!"

The soft touch of lips on his own roused him from a dream, one where he was trying to buy a pint of jellied mosquitoes from Denise in the Minute Mart and he stirred, mumbling, "I want to speak to head office!"

Christian laughed fondly, patiently letting him emerge into full consciousness, seeing his eyes glitter in a sliver of silver light.

"I bet you do. Shift over."

"No, no!" Syed drowsily protested, patting behind him. "Wrong spoon…"

Holding onto the wall for support, Christian crawled over Syed's body, slotting himself behind him, waiting for the bed to collapse. It wobbled and Syed giggled as Christian wrapped his arms swiftly around his waist to protect him, waiting for the reaction he knew was inevitable.

"Fuck me. Are you wearing pyjamas?" Christian asked with dismay.

"Haaa! We are married now. Mum's ironed them very neatly." Syed let him unbutton the jacket, enjoying the touch of Christian's bare chest against his back as he swiftly removed the offending article and contemptuously hurled it away. He wriggled closer, Christian's chin resting on his shoulder, knees curled behind his own.

"At least you left the bottom's off…" Christian lazily slid his hand down to cup Syed's balls.

"And I never got as far as finding any of the ninety pairs of pants."

"Minx." Christian nipped at his ear and yawned, so widely it made the camp bed vibrate perilously. "Shattered."

"I know… Christian?"

"What baby?"

Syed felt Christian's lashes flicker against the back of his neck, his breath in his ear.

"I'm sorry your dad wasn't here to meet you."

"Aw, don't worry about it. It probably serves me right for hardly talking to him for years. I expect the randy old goat's off philandering somewhere, flirting with some coquettish pensioner widow woman. Must be where I got it from…."

Twisting his head to grin at him, Syed raised an eyebrow.

"You and pensioner widow women? Is there something I should know?"

Yawning again, Christian nestled nearer, trying to ignore the perilous, precarious swaying each tiny movement created.

"Well I could never resist Mo's siren call."

"I thought as much…" As Syed slipped into sleep, warm with comfort, a fog of oblivion rising to meet him, a sudden panic jolted him awake, heart seeming to flail beneath his rib cage, as if he were poised on the edge of a bottomless well.

"Christian?"

"What now?" Grumpily, Christian half opened his eyes, thinking that, despite loving the bones of the man in his arms he really wished he'd shut up and let him get some rest.

Syed fought with the question on his lips, burning with the worry that he may have no right to ask it, that it was hypocritical, a sick bubble of fear griping at his stomach, threatening to torment him throughout the night if he left the words unsaid.

"When I… When you left. Did you go…Was there anyone else?"


	7. Chapter 7

_**Here's some more! :) Sorry I left it so angsty. xxxxx**_

* * *

Syed could hear a tiny tapping against the window, frail lace insect wings beating fast, in time with his heart. He waited, fingernails digging into the metal bed frame, splinters of green paint flaking under the pressure of his grip, longing to have left the question unsaid. Christian moved his hand, retreating and Syed's blood pounded in a sudden rush, roaring inside his ears like the sea. Throat dry, he tried to speak, make a feeble joke, change the subject, but his tongue felt too big for his mouth and he could only manage to say Christian's name, entreating, yearning for an end to the misery of apprehension.

With a deep sigh, the breath blowing at the hair on the nape of Syed's neck, Christian answered simply,

"No."

"Oh right… I shouldn't, I mean, I don't know why I asked…" Syed's voice cracked and he coughed, trying to return it to normal, wanting everything to return to normal.

Christian closed his eyes, sensing his sorrow and wrapped his arms tighter around his waist, almost feeling his ribs crack under the pressure.

"Because you needed to. I won't say the idea didn't enter my head, to show you, to prove something, to make a point…" Christian laughed bitterly. "You know me, If I had I would have paraded it in front of you, tried to make you hurt as much as I did. Banging on the window, like a spoilt brat."

"No!" Insistent, Syed wriggled around, their faces close, noses nearly touching, lips a kiss apart. "No. Like a man in pain, trying to make the idiot who kept breaking his heart and his own realise what he was about to lose."

"Aren't we a pair…?" The corner of Christian's mouth twisted, ruefully remembering the agony and his search for oblivion to salve it. "I did, however, get horribly drunk."

"You? Never."

"And wail down the phone like a baby to poor Steve."

Tears sparked again in Syed's eyes at the thought of Christian's distress, coupled with a twist of guilty, embarrassed nausea.

"Oh love. So you told him everything?"

"I think I might have. Sam was probably earwigging. I'm really sorry."

Syed stopped his apology with a firm shake of his head.

"Don't be." He imagined Sam's sharp clever face, the way he would look at him, the sarcastic digs and comments he would be unable to resist making and groaned inwardly, aware that he probably deserved it. "You needed to talk to someone. I should learn a lesson from that really…"

"Yeah." Christian agreed with a soft smile. "You should. You can always talk to me, always. I'll try not to steamroller ahead so much…"

"With me in your wake, calling, 'wait for me!'"

"It's going to be you and me. Side by side."

"Yes." Syed nodded, so vigorously that his hair whipped into a tousled mess. Suddenly compelled by an urgent need to unburden himself, he blurted, "Christian, I need to tell you how it was…"

Christian felt a cold shudder raise the hairs on his arms, suspecting he might not want to hear what he was about to be told and briefly closed his eyes, summoning strength.

"You don't."

"I do. It was nothing, me and him. Horrible, a pointless fumble. I ran from there…" Syed recalled the rasping catch in his lungs as he had belted down the darkened streets. "…I was sick in the gutter. I don't want you to imagine, think of it, for it to be there between us like a big, grumpy, miserable elephant lurking in the corner of a room…"

"As if I haven't given you enough of those delightful pictures to deal with in the past? It isn't that Sy. If…" Christian turned his head away to stare at the ceiling. "…If, in the future, that's how you want us to be. If you need other experiences, just say. I mean, it works for a lot of couples, look at Sam and Steve…"

"Do I have to? I don't want that." Syed roughly grabbed Christian's jaw, forcing him to look at him, saying quietly and vehemently, "It all became clear. I want you. Only you. Forever. No more lying, to myself and especially not to you."

Christian kissed him, slowly, with a wealth of love, breaking away to say,

"White lies are okay, no need to be too brutally honest."

"I'm sorry, that's the deal." Syed grinned impishly. "And in the spirit of new honesty, you need to get a haircut. Preferably first thing in the morning."

"Oi!" Running his hand through his quiff, Christian pouted. "I thought you liked it!"

"I lied." Syed dodged from the slap he fully expected to receive on his buttocks and the bed creaked with an alarming twang of springs and dipped in the middle.

"Oh shit. This isn't going to work."

Shocked, Syed studied Christian's expression with a frown, scared that his simple jokey comment had somehow torn open barely healed, raw, wounds, unaware he was referring to the bed.

"It will!" He said plaintively, "We'll make it work."

"How? Have you got a ton of widgets stashed up you bum? If I try and find out, we're going to end up crashing in a heap of ripped canvas and bent metal. Sooo…"

Christian picked Syed up and shifted his weight to make the camp bed tip on its side, rolling them over and over, laughing, onto the tiled floor. With Syed lying on his chest, he gazed into his eyes and gently kissed his forehead, murmuring a quote, learnt long ago at school, forgotten until now.

"And throughout eternity, I forgive you and you forgive me… I love you Syed Clarke Masood and tomorrow, when I've seen my mum and my rotten old sod of a father, somehow, I'm getting us a proper place to sleep, with no elephants and no malevolent wicker monstrosities, nothing to get in our way."


	8. Chapter 8

_**More! With love. xx :)**_

* * *

Confused by the pain in his elbows, Syed half opened his eyes, quickly screwing them shut at the onslaught of light streaming through the windows. Still seeing squares of yellow flickering behind his lids, he muttered drowsily,

"So that's why it's called the sun room…"

"Mmm?" Christian breathed into his ear and nuzzled closer. Drifting slowly up from slumber, he flexed the muscles of his right hand, rendered numb from Syed sleeping on his arm, stretching each finger in turn, playing an imaginary piano in the air. He dismissed the logical thought that the feeling would return more quickly if he asked Syed to move, wanting him to stay where he was, with his head resting against his neck.

Syed felt Christian's erection nudge at his hip and smiled.

"Down boy…I am actually melting." He shifted his buttock, peeling it away from the hard tiles. "And my elbows are broken. Why are my elbows broken?"

"Rampant all over the place…I'll kiss them better. My knob's broken too…" About to slide his free hand along the inside of Syed's thigh, Christian stopped abruptly at the sound of knocking on the door and quickly twitched up the sheet to cover them. "Hold that thought…Come in!"

Jane stood in the doorway, holding a tray and looked for somewhere to put it, taking in the wrecked room, the upside down bed, the sofa squashed into a corner, drunkenly leaning on its side and draped with discarded clothes and towels.

"What on earth? No, I don't want to know… I bought you breakfast in…floor."

They glanced at each other and grinned. Sitting up, Christian made to take the tray from her but Jane stooped to slide it beside him and wrapped the belt of her red silk dressing gown tighter about her waist before sitting down to join them. She pushed down the plunger of a _cafetière_ and Christian inhaled deeply, savouring the aroma of the coffee with pleasure.

"Syeed, would you rather have tea? I can make some. There are croissants, bagels. Or I can get some toast."

Realising that he was famished, Syed wanted to swoop greedily on everything and eat it all at once. Resisting the urge and not wanting to appear ungrateful, although he would have preferred tea and the thought of toast made his stomach groan with hunger, he blinked shyly and said,

"This is lovely Jane. You shouldn't have."

"Yes she should." Christian sipped with pleasure at his drink and tore off a piece of bagel, cramming it into Syed's mouth. "Thank you sis."

"You're welcome, but don't expect it every day. I see the bed was a disaster, I wondered what all that banging about was in the middle of the night…"

"I bet you knew full well, you filthy mare!"

Wiping a crumb from his top lip, Syed swallowed and dug Christian firmly in the ribs, wincing as the action jarred his bruises.

"Don't be rude Christian! We couldn't quite fit on the bed and it sort of collapsed."

Jane laughed.

"I can see that. What did the poor sofa do to deserve a trashing? Horrible thing, it's like the one in your flat, did you notice? It's sweltering in here too. You must have boiled. Why didn't you pull the blinds down and open the roof windows?"

"There are blinds?"

"There are roof windows?"

Christian and Syed exclaimed together.

"Yes to both, you pair of fools." Jane gave them each a pitying look and stood up. "Christian, I'll be waking mum up soon for her medication. Can you sit with her while I do a shop? Dad won't surface 'til lunch time."

"Of course I will!"

"It'll be a relief not to have to race back." Jane seemed to brighten; worry smoothed from her face, as if she had been relieved of a terrible burden and awarded a luxury cruise around the Galapagos Islands rather than a little extra time to spend in a supermarket. "Finish your breakfast and I'll see you in a bit…And put some clothes on, if you can find any in this mess."

Syed finished his third bagel and puffed out his cheeks.

"Stuffed." He patted his stomach and rose groggily to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. He knew Christian was watching him with desire and arched his back, smiling to himself as he glanced out of the window. "Christian! Have you seen this?" He reached out his hand and grabbed Christian, pulling him up to join him. They stared in silent appreciation at the view. Around a small square of parched grass, where, under a palm tree, two sun loungers and a grubby plastic picnic table waited patiently for occupants, stood four high white walls. Set into them, at the far end, were a pair of wrought iron gates, their ornate metal curls revealing tantalising glimpses of golden sand stretching towards the ocean, rolling with soft creamy breakers beneath a cobalt blue sky.

Whistling appreciatively, Christian gripped Syed's fingers and squealed, "Beach!" in a high-pitched voice.

"Don't call me a bitch." Syed laughed, delighted to see him so excited.

"Ha! You lucky thing. You can go and lie out there while I'm being a dutiful son, unless you want to go with Jane? There's a mosque not far from here, she could give you a lift..."

"Is there? How did you know that?" Touched, Syed tenderly stroked Christian's back and kissed his shoulder.

"I Googled it. Just in case…" Turning away, pretending to sort through his rucksack, Christian added, "…Or I expect you want to ring Amira, speak to Yas."

"I'll wait." Syed said, sensing Christian's sadness. "We'll talk to her together. Come here."

Sniffing, Christian grinned feebly and allowed himself to melt into the security and warmth of Syed's embrace "You're her daddy too." Syed reassured him and Christian shrugged, wondering how it could be true.

"Not Uncle Christian?" He asked despondently.

"Not to me and not to Yasmin. Daddy Christian. Believe me?" Syed sought his eyes, staring steadily into them until he received a nod. "Good. Mum will probably have rung her straight away to say where we are, she wouldn't be able to resist the chance of a gossip. I'm going to have to tell the phone company and the bank too. They're going to think I've had my identity stolen…" He spotted the twitch of Christian's lip and groaned. "Yeah, yeah. Maybe I did. Got it back now though."

His fears temporarily allayed, Christian's gloominess dispersed and he cheerfully ruffled Syed's hair.

"Yes baby. You have."


	9. Chapter 9

_**As Forever is taking me forever, I haven't got them to Christmas yet, but I'm sure they're having a fabulous one. :D And I wish all of you a fabulous one too. Merry Christmas! :) xxxxxxxxx**_

* * *

The dim gloom of the room, curtains drawn against the sunlight, diffusing the brightness outside to a soft orange glow, made Christian hesitate in the doorway, allowing his eyes to adjust. His gaze skimmed past the foreboding signs of illness at the bedside, a small oxygen tank, various packets, silver foil blisters waiting to be popped, a carafe of water to wash down the contents. He forced himself to focus on the figure propped up forlornly in the bed, her hair tidily brushed, lipstick bravely applied, but frail and half the woman he remembered. The sight made his throat ache, mourning lost time, change, the inevitability of ageing. With a voice unaffected by her poor health, strong, not feebly cracking as he expected and wholly familiar, his mother asked curtly,

"What on earth have you done to your hair?"

Christian bit his lip and grinned, his head dropping with a small, amused shake.

"Don't you start, mother. I've already had grief off Sy."

"I'm not surprised. He's still around then?" Linda patted the bed, gesturing for Christian to join her and he was across the room in two strides, holding her hand, stroking the paper-thin skin, mottled with the marks of age.

"Can't get rid of him. We're married now." He explained carefully, uncertain if she knew or would remember, or if she would approve, steeling himself to be kind in the face of criticism and not throw an aggrieved fit of pique.

She touched his cheek and smiled.

"I wish I could have been there. But Jane said the marriage was over straight away and you were coming out here on your own, then it was back on and he was coming too. He's not messing you around is he? You always were such a big hearted, silly boy."

"No mum, he's not. This time it's for keeps." As he allayed her fears he felt the last of his own diminish, folding up into a tiny scrap that no longer weighed so heavily on his soul.

"I hope so, or he'll have me to answer to…" She tightened her pink cardigan, incongruous in the heat of the room, across her chest, as if trying to mask the ominous crackle and wheeze, gamely attempting to stifle the cough that rattled in her throat.

Christian rubbed at her back until the hacking subsided and poured a glass of water, holding it towards her.

"You'll have to help me." She grumbled, cross at her own weakness. "Since that damn stroke my grip's poor."

He did as he was told, raising the glass to her mouth and tipping it carefully, pulling out a tissue from the box on the bedside table to gently dab away the drops that spilled.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come before mum."

"I was getting better before. Bloody hospitals, full of diseases. Besides, you had your own life to get on with, that pretty little girl to look after. Where is she?"

Failing to find anywhere to put the used tissue without leaving her side, Christian dropped it into the glass, where, absorbing the remaining water, it unfurled slowly, like petals on a flowering bud.

"Yasmin. With her mum." He hoped he had managed to sound blasé and unaffected, conscious of his mother's beady scrutiny.

"Whatshisname's ex-wife? Hmm. Well I daresay it's all very modern."

"Yes mother. His name's Syed. Syed Clarke-Masood." Already feeling his patience beginning to shred, Christian fiddled with a small plastic tube until he began to wonder what it was for and swiftly dropped it, wiping his fingers on his shorts.

"Is he, I mean Syed…" She corrected herself with an impish gleam in her faded eyes. "…Is he still too thin? Lovely looking lad, as I recall."

"He's gorgeous. Jane said you should eat around now. She's made you something. I'll go and fetch it for you."

"So bossy, your sister. Fussing around. I hope it's not one of those fancy things she does in her restaurant again. Healthy little mounds of tasteless pap."

Linda pursed her lips with distaste and Christian laughed.

"Missed your vocation as a food critic…" The stale airless atmosphere, coupled with a pervasive undertone of antiseptic made him wrinkle his nose. "…Could you eat in the kitchen, if I helped you? Change of scene?"

She pushed herself away from the pillows with difficulty, keen to take him up on the suggestion and fell back limply as the effort proved too much, another coughing fit taking hold.

"Not today." Christian said sadly, smoothing her hair away from her clammy forehead and waiting for her to recover.

"Tomorrow." She wheezed. "We'll try tomorrow. Is your father here?"

"Roger?" Christian sneered, saying the name with contempt. "Haven't seen him."

Syed sat on the wall outside the mosque and turned his face to the sun. He sighed happily, content to wait until whenever Jane arrived to collect him, almost hoping she might be delayed so he could watch the exciting new world go by for a little longer, the only downside being that Christian wasn't there to enjoy it with him.

A pair of handsome men, tanned and toned in tight shorts and vests, buzzed in front of him on Segway's, gossiping furiously. A tall blonde woman, pony tail bobbing from side to side, snuffling, bug eyed pug at her heels, jogged by and he caught a small snatch of dance music leaking from her headphones as she passed. A group of teenagers swiftly followed her on roller blades, long brown legs swiping by in a blur. Starting to feel over dressed, Syed tucked his prayer cap into the pocket of his jeans and bent to roll them up further, idly musing if his mother might have packed a pair of shorts in his luggage and whether it might be an idea to get his legs waxed, to fit in with the locals. The last thought made him giggle and he rubbed at the dark hairs on his shin, tracing the scar from when he had broken his leg. The memories it evoked, of lying in his hospital bed, Christian distraught and devoted beside him, made him suddenly eager to get back and he scanned the traffic for signs of the battered estate car. Finding none, he twisted to face the beach, half watching a boisterous game of volleyball, repeatedly checking the time on his watch until the action began to annoy him and he took out his phone and studied the list of messages. Wishing he'd had the foresight to organise some sort of bolt on package for cheap international calls and wondering if his ancient phone was up to it, he tapped out a text to Tamwar,

'Hey Tambo! Arrived safely. Sitting by the beach in the sunshine. Tell Mum I'll ring later. x'

'_Here it appears to be raining. Which is nice. Will do. T'_

He was smiling at the taciturn response when the phone vibrated and trilled, making him start and almost drop it into the sand at his feet. Catching it just in time, he raised it to his ear.

"Hello."

"_At last! I was beginning to think you were dead, as I know you couldn't possibly be ignoring me, you shitbag."_

With a tinge of guilt and a surge of pleasure, Syed responded,

"Never been more alive! Sorry Michael, things went crazy. How are you?"


	10. Chapter 10

"_I'm okay now I know you're still alive…"_

Michael's response sounded blithe and jokey, but Syed thought he detected an underlying truth and twisted his mouth, rueful at the effect he had caused, both touched and guilty.

"… _What's happening? How are you coping? I was really sorry to hear it all went tits up with you and Christian. Do you want to come over? Rory's away."_

Before a background crash drowned it out, Syed heard an intake of breath and with a sinking heart, realised that Michael knew what he had done. He began to panic, interpreting the invitation as a come on and quickly tried to think of a kind refusal, a way to let Michael down gently, again.

'At least I won't be shoving him in the chest and running away.' He closed his eyes at the memory of the sports field, the same warmth burning from the sun onto his face, a quiet resignation replacing the savage, angry, torn passion of before.

"Michael, I…"

"_What? Sorry. I dropped a saucepan. Fred's here, she's not very well, so I'm making her a hearty soup. Except, I'm not, I'm talking to you and wrecking the joint. Bollocks, carrots everywhere. You were going to say?"_

Syed laughed, cursing himself inwardly for his arrogant assumption.

"Open a tin, Michael. Where's your Rory gone?"

"_Winchester. He's looking at medieval porn, working with his ex-boyfriend."_

Detecting a peevish note behind Michael's cheery comment, Syed asked gently,

"Are you jealous Michael?"

"_Hell yeah! But I'm being very grown up, not throwing a massive queenie strop like before. And it isn't really porn. I made that bit up. Though I swear the smell of old paper turns him on. Never mind, he'll be all fired up for when he gets home to me! Yippee! I'm in for a damn good seeing to. I'm getting a lob on just thinking about it. Sorry, that was probably too much information and I'm rabbiting on about myself. Come over and help me cook, Fred will be eternally grateful. Where are you?"_

Lucky you and lucky Rory. I'm in Miami."

Another bang, sounding suspiciously like head meeting wood with a clash of cutlery thrown in, filtered down the line from across the world, swiftly followed by a deluge of hissed cursing.

"_Shit. You what? Truly? Isn't that a bit drastic? I mean, I'm sure you look hot in the uniform. Have you had to have your lovely hair cut?"_

"Eh?" Perplexed, Syed frowned. "What are you on about? Did you just give yourself concussion?"

"_I was trying to pick up the carrots and forgot I'd left the drawer open when I stood up. I think you might be right about the tin option. Or a carton, soup's posher from a carton… If you've joined the army, they'll make you get a short back and sides, won't they? Mind, you'll probably look fabulous…"_

"Ha! Miami, you nutter. I'm in Miami, Florida, America."

They laughed delightedly at each other, until Michael stopped abruptly, still bemused.

"_Well I did think it was odd, I wondered if sorrow had sent you over the edge. Are you on your own? You're not…"_

"I'm with Christian." The simple statement filled Syed with contentment and he smiled at a woman, power walking up the beach, making her flush with pleasure at the sweetness and nearly collide with a parasol. He held the mobile slightly away, protecting his eardrum from Michael's whooping.

"_Thank fuck! Where you should be. I'm so pleased for you both. If you two couldn't make it work, I didn't think there was any hope left for the rest of us. He's the only man for you." _Michael giggled, adding in a deep, seductive voice, "_Apart from me, of course."_

"Obviously. You're taken though, so what could I do?"

"_I know! Gutting for you. Ha! Are you having a brilliant time? Living the high life? Where are you staying? The Betsy Hotel on Ocean Drive is fantastic…"_

"I'm sure it is. We're staying with Christian's parents and his sister." Syed's elbows ached, reminding him of the discomfort of the cold tiled floor. "You heard I lost a lot of money?" He knew the inevitability of an affirmative answer, figuring Sam would have found that out too and been unable to keep it to himself.

"_Yep, 'fraid so. Sam can't really help it. I think it's pathological. We could have given it to you Syed, bailed you out."_

Bridling slightly, Syed pursed his lips, battling with his bruised ego that smarted as painfully as his elbows.

"Why should you? It was, is, my mess and I need to sort it."

"_Oh. Right. Sorry."_

Syed groaned, hating the hurt in Michael's tone, wishing his pride hadn't made him so snappy, hadn't made him make so many mistakes.

"Thank you. For the offer. I do appreciate it."

"_Look…" _Michael hesitated and took a deep breath. _"…Say no f you want, I won't mind, but we bought you and Christian a wedding present and it seems to have been sent back because there was no one there to sign for it. We might have been a bit extravagant. Who am I kidding? I might. If it were down to Ror you probably would have got a book token. It would have been a wonderful book token, filled with love. However, as I am a flash git, it was a home cinema system and a plasma television, which is now cluttering up the spare bedroom. So how's about I return it and send you the money instead? You probably don't need to watch all those Rom Coms you like in 5.1 surround sound anyway and if I say I'm shipping it to Miami, Rory's glasses will steam up. What do you think?"_

The prospect of being able to repay his parents a little money and maybe there being enough to have to at least one night in a king size bed, in a luxury hotel, made Syed's objections begin to vaporise.

"I'm ignoring the Rom Com comment. There's no need. Why not keep it for yourselves?"

"_We've already got one at the flat and if we had it here the ceiling would cave in the minute a spaceship went over on the screen. No worries. It was just an idea."_

A tantalising image of Christian's naked body against white sheets, curtains blowing softly in a warm breeze in front of open windows, a view of palm trees and the sea, peace and quiet and togetherness, finally made Syed graciously capitulate.

"It's a wonderful idea. Thank you so much Michael."

"_You're our friends, we love you. Besides, I had a good year and I could write it off against tax, tee hee. What's your bank account details? I might as well transfer it now, or I'll get caught up in trying to cook stuff and forget. Hang on, I need a pen. Fred!"_

Syed listened to Michael's footsteps echoing on wooden boards, Fred sneezing and snuffling, and bent down to pick up a handful of sand, letting it trickle through his fingers, minute grains shimmering.

"_Aw, bless you! Poor baby. Where's your dad hidden all his quills? Ta darling. It's Syed. He's in Miami with Christian… Fred says hello and she wishes she was in Miami too. Ooh, I've got a pen with a pink fluffy wobble head!"_

"How appropriate!"

"_Cheeky. Fire away."_

Syed passed over his details, wanting to transmit a hug along with them, to see Michael's handsome face and his vivid blue eyes, suddenly home sick. He dimly registered the blaring of a car horn and someone shouting a version of his name with too many vowels in it.

"Better shoot. My ride's here…" He said, in an American accent and winced. "Bollocks. I told Christian off for doing that. I'm incredibly grateful, Christian will be too…"

"_Oh shut up. Love you buddy. When are you back? We need to party! Celebrate yer nuptials."_

"We do! I'm not sure, though our visas run out by February. We haven't really thought about it yet, only just got here and Christian's mum isn't very well."

"_That's a shame! I hope she gets better soon. Hmm, maybe we could come out and see you. Go on a road trip."_

"Why am I scared? Take care Michael. Love to Rory and Fred."

"_Give Christian one from me and don't be a stranger... And Syed…"_

Sprinting up to the waiting car, hair flopping over his forehead, Syed mouthed sorry to Jane, who was nervously checking the mirror for any lurking traffic cops who might be waiting to pounce and fine her for parking illegally,

"What Michael?"

"_Be happy."_


	11. Chapter 11

Wearily, Christian dropped the spoon back into the bowl and placed it on the bedside table.

"Are you sure you can't manage anymore? You've barely eaten anything."

Linda shook her head, mulishly pressed her lips together and waved him away; putting him in mind of Yasmin refusing a carrot stick and making him smile. He wiped the corners of his mother's mouth and plumped the pillow behind her head, gently laying her down and straightening the gaudily patterned bed sheet across her chest.

"You'll waste away." He chided.

"Nonsense. I'm getting my girlish figure back. Your father always said I had the best legs in Sidcup…" Her puffy lids began to close, although he could tell she was gamely fighting the onset of sleep, attempting to fix unfocused eyes on his own.

"Smooth devil. I'm sure you did, mum." Christian wondered how many other women his father had used the line on, replacing the town where appropriate. Sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, stroking Linda's hand, letting her ramble on about the dates she had been on, how she could have married a doctor, how her career was cut short when she fell pregnant with Jane, Christian ran through a list of his own chat up lines, cringing at the memory of the cheesiest ones. He found comfort in the fact that he had hardly ever needed to use them, a knowing look, a common intent, being all that was required on most occasions. Until there was Syed and all rules and rituals burned in his fire, froze in his ice. Christian's blood ran dizzyingly hot through his body, feeling the first urgent, intense pressure of Syed's lips against his own as if it had happened minutes ago, recalling his own surprise and delight and passion, the helpless, abandoned descent into love.

"But of course, she had a wooden eye…" His mother's comment, the last before she finally succumbed to sleep, made him blink in surprise and laugh.

"Course she did mum…" He kissed her on the forehead and got to his feet heavily, still aching from the flight, the night's vigorous lovemaking and the weeks of tension spent lurching from joy to misery and back to joy again. He listened carefully to his mother's ragged breathing until he was sure there was no chance of her waking to find herself alone and went to attend to the chaos he and Syed had left in the sunroom.

"Oh my gawd." Christian muttered and scratched his head, uncertain where he could start his attempt to bring order to the havoc he and Syed had created. Half-heartedly, he stooped to pick up Syed's discarded shirt, crumpled, smelly shirt, sniffing it before placing it on the broken camp bed.

"Washing pile." He said, formulating a system and added two pairs of pants and his jumper. He found Syed's pyjama top and considered ripping it slightly, accidentally on purpose, decided not to and folded it, putting it on top of Syed's case. As his hand left the material, he glimpsed an antler, sticking out from the bottom, partly obscured by Tamwar's sign. Rescuing Moosey, he held the stuffed toy to his face, his eyes filling with tears.

"Oh…" He gulped. Pulling himself together, he wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and placed Moosey on the windowsill.

"You sit there and watch."

He gazed out towards the small sliver of sea, tantalisingly visible beyond the iron gates, wishing he could go for a swim, imagining muscles flexing and contracting as his arms curved through the blue water, sending white spray high into the air, pounding his sadness away. He was about to turn and continue tidying when he spotted a figure, lying on one of the sun loungers, battered straw hat tipped low over his lined face, engrossed in the sports pages of a newspaper.

"Son."

"Roger."

His father turned over a page then reluctantly laid his paper down on his lap, covering his neatly pressed beige shorts, and crossed his legs at the ankle, a varicose vein bulging from his tanned calf. He smiled, deep grooves etched across his cheeks, making Christian think of walnuts.

"Long time no see."

On the point of snapping, 'and whose fault is that?' Christian concluded that at least half the blame lay on his own shoulders, sniffed haughtily and stretched out on the other lounger, hands behind his head, squinting at the cloudless sky.

"Been busy. You know how it is."

Roger flipped at the brim of his hat and winked.

"Not sure if I do, son. You settled at anything yet?"

A familiar rage gripped at Christian's gut and he struggled to keep it under control, mindful that he was no longer fifteen and should rise above it.

'Yes dad.' He thought. 'Had two successful businesses, a home, friends, a community and I have the love of a remarkable man.'

"I got married." He said aloud. "But you know that."

He detected a faint snort and he fought down the compelling urge to storm off, slamming some doors in the process and yelling 'I hate you!' in his wake.

The vision of a teenage tantrum made him smile, despite his anger and he managed to keep his voice steady.

"It's legal and it should be equal."

Raising his eyebrows, Roger twitched at his newspaper, looking as if he were bored of the conversation and wanted to get back to reading the football results.

"Whatever floats your boat. He's here, isn't he? What's his name again? Something foreign, isn't it?"

Christian swung his legs from the sun lounger, twisting to glower at his father.

"It's Syed and he's a British Pakistani Muslim. Got a problem with that?"

Maddeningly calm, Roger grinned.

"Not me son, just asking. You're a grown man; you always made it quite clear you could do whatever you like... Bit disappointing for you, if you were looking for an opportunity to kick off… Have you seen your mum?"

Deflated and wrong footed by the rapid change of subject, Christian opened and shut his mouth and answered sadly,

"Yes. I didn't realise she was so poorly."

Blithely returning to his paper, seemingly without a care in the world, Roger rolled his eyes.

"Oh she's okay. Being a drama queen. Must be where you got it from. Is Jane around? I'm a bit peckish. Make us a sandwich, will you?"

The resurgence of a rightful rage came as a relief and Christian stood, pushing back his shoulders, snarling,

"Make it yourself and go and sit with your wife. I'm going to get a haircut."


	12. Chapter 12

Syed put the shopping bags down in the doorway of the kitchen and smiled fondly at the sight of Christian at the sink. Shirtless, wearing bright pink rubber gloves, he had paused in the act of scrubbing at a plate and was admiring his reflection in the window, dipping his head from side to side, studying his new haircut from every angle.

His shoes making little noise on the beige linoleum, Syed crept across the room and slipped his arms around Christian's waist, laying his cheek against his back.

"Oh fuck!" The plate slipped from Christian's hand into the washing up bowl, soapy water splashing up onto his chest as it landed. "You scared the shit out of me!" Shifting round in the embrace, Christian dabbed a blob of foam onto the end of Syed's nose, laughing as he blew at it and little iridescent bubbles circled between them. "Have you had a good morning, gorgeous?"

"Without you? Impossible..." Syed reached out to touch the top of Christian's head, running his fingers through the short hairs of the brown crop. …Sexy."

"You like?"

Striking a flamboyant pose, Christian displayed himself for Syed, enchanted by the look of approval on his face.

"I like very much. And accessorising with Marigolds! Inspired. Oh, guess what?"

Eyes bright with excitement, Syed picked up the shopping bags and deposited them on top of the black marble effect worktop, randomly opening and shutting cabinet doors, trying to find the right places to put the groceries.

"You swapped Jane for a king size bed with fluffy pillows. Where is she by the way?" Christian resumed the washing up, adding a burst of hot water and raising his voice above the noise as it gushed from the tap.

"She's out the front talking to Esther from next door… Where would biscuits go? I mean cookies. I think these are meant to be like custard creams…" Syed pulled a face at the packet in his hand, suspicious that, despite it being the right colour yellow and the picture of the contents seeming remarkably similar, it would only contain a poor imitation and disappointment. "Sadly no bed, but it's good! We've got some money!"

Syed expected an instant reaction and frowned when none came, eyeing Christian's shoulders suspiciously, imagining a change in the set of them as Christian carefully positioned a cup on the drainer.

"Did you hear me?" Syed asked.

"Yep." Christian turned and leant against the counter, folding his arms. "How come?"

The question was asked pleasantly and evenly, yet Syed began to imagine accusatory undertones and fought down a desire to snap, "I made some investments." Carefully arranging tins into neat lines, he opted to answer with the truth.

"Michael rang when I was waiting for Jane to arrive. He's over the moon that we're back together. Apparently, he and Rory bought us a flash home cinema thingy as a wedding present. He's transferring the money instead, thought it would be of more use."

Christians tired features lifted into a weary smile.

"Aw! That's nice of them. How was he?"

"Like a dog with eighteen tails, as usual. He was trying to cook for Fred. Rory's away."

"Fred'll end up with a takeaway, or food poisoning. Bet he had a good old flirt with you."

Syed took an egg carton from the bag and opened it up, studying the smooth brown domes, checking for cracks.

"He does that to everyone…He asked me over." He giggled, embarrassed, recalling his initial reaction to the invitation and looked nervously towards Christian. "I assumed, because he knows about… that he was making another play for me…"

"Really? You numpty. He's got Rory…" A sound from within the house made Christian frown, thinking it was his mother crying out in her sleep. He focused his attention on it, half listening to Syed's protestations.

"I know! I'm a twat. I wouldn't have, anyway. Even if he had meant that… Christian?"

"What? Bit too far to go, I suppose."

Misinterpreting the furrow between Christian's brows, Syed took the throwaway comment as an accusation, his nerves still on edge, his fear, that their newfound fragile contentment could still be shattered, making him defensive.

"What do you mean by that? Am I still going to keep getting this grief, after all we've said?" He snapped petulantly and slammed his fist on top of the eggs, breaking them all, their contents oozing from the cardboard and dripping slowly in a gelatinous gloop to the floor. He stormed from the kitchen, the speed of his passing making Jane's hair lift as she pressed herself against the door to avoid him.

"Syed! Sy! I was joking!" Christian closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head at Jane.

She gaped incredulously at Syed's departing figure, wincing as the slammed the front door behind him. Raising her eyebrows in surprise, she asked,

"What's up with him?"

Christian slowly peeled off the rubber gloves and slapped them together, thoughtfully studying the mess of broken shells.

"He's tired, over sensitive. One good thing, he's always so incredibly hot when he's angry… Is mum all right? I thought I heard her."

"She's fine. She's asleep, though I daresay Syeed banging about and shouting has put paid to that. Still, no matter, I need to dress the sore on her leg anyway."

Jane's matter of fact statement made Christian screw up his face in horror.

"Ugh! That's revolting!"

"Welcome to the real world, Christian. To quote Bette Davis, 'old age ain't no place for sissies'. Are you going to go after him? I need to talk to you about something."

"Yes, no." Christian took a step forward, struggling with indecision. He felt dragged down with torpor, leaden. He smiled weakly. "Oh, he'll come back when he's ready, or if he doesn't, I'll go and get him." He knew, with a profound, unshakeable certainty, that they would always come back to each other, find each other, a random image popping into his mind, of him and Syed in a sunlit garden, a pair of stroppy uncoordinated children playing swing ball with each other's feelings. "What did you need to talk about? Is it important?"

"I'm afraid it is."

Jane's serious expression scared him. Heart sinking, he felt an urgent need for Syed's presence.

"Then Sy needs to be here."

Syed curled his toes in the soft white sand and hugged his knees close to his chest, staring gloomily out to sea, focusing on a distant surfer, crouched low on his board.

'On the crest of a wave…' He thought jealously. A horrid soup of emotions swirled inside him, each battling to take control. Guilt vied with anger, self-loathing threw a punch at his aggrieved ego, fear tried to batter hope, but floating above them all and filling him with annoyance and delight was a vision of Christian in a wetsuit.

"Oh bollocks." He laughed wryly at himself and grabbed for his boots, preparing himself to mooch back into the house and kiss the life out of his husband.

"Oi!"

Christian strolled slowly down the beach towards him, eyes covered by his sunglasses, hands behind his back.

"Oi yourself. What have you got there?" Squinting against the glare of the sun, Syed glimpsed something dangling from Christian's fingers.

"Look who I found stowed away in your luggage."

"Moosey!"

Christian put the stuffed toy in front of them and pulled his phone from the pocket of his shorts.

"We'll have to take pictures of him wherever we go. Send them so Yas can see." He took a shot and then pushed his shades to the top of his head, retrieving Moosey and settling him between them, holding the phone into the air.

"Smile!" They each beamed at the lens for a moment. Christian clicked the button and dumped Moosey onto Syed's lap, showing him the resulting photograph, cupping his hand over the screen. "There. Happy. What was that flounce all about?"

Syed shifted uncomfortably and played with Moosey's antlers.

"Felt bad about stuff. Seemed like you were wrong about what I did not always being there between us. Thought you were being weird…"

"Darling, I'm always weird. Especially when I've had a conversation with my Father. Try not to read stuff into things that isn't there. You've got to let it go, Sy. Forgive yourself. You messed up. You didn't kill anyone. I might, spending too long with my parents…"

"I'm sorry." Syed twined his fingers through Christian's and looked up at him, golden eyes filled with concern. "Have you had a shit morning?"

Raising their linked hands to kiss Syed's palm, Christian nodded.

"I'm shagged out, babe, stressed to buggery. I didn't realise how ill Mum is, my Dad winds me up without doing anything. I had a flounce today too. Had to flounce back to ask him for some cash and where the nearest barber was. Awkward."

Syed grinned.

"I'm really glad you did."

"Hmm. The things I do for you." Pensive, Christian pushed a strand of hair behind Syed's ear. "You are allowed to have a laugh, you know. I can cope with you finding other people attractive. You're only human, a man. Well, you were last time I looked. We can't spend our lives treading on eggshells… Even though we've got some now, thanks to you."

"Oops. Omelettes for lunch…" Syed tilted his chin, blinking innocently. "It's a relief to hear you say that, because I saw some fantastically buff sights when I was waiting for Jane…"

Pretending to be huffy, Christian sniffed and pouted. He carefully put Moosey a safe distance away, rolled Syed over and scooped up handfuls of sand, trying to force them down the front of his trousers.

"Oh DID you now?"

"Ha! Stop it! Lots of very smooth chests. Does the barber do waxing? We're going to have to have the works if we want to compete."

Christian lay on top of Syed, knocking the breath from his body. He gripped his wrists, stretching his arms out and sweeping them upwards to make a sand angel. His lips tantalisingly close, almost upon Syed's open, waiting, mouth, he murmured,

"Nah. We're better than all of them. We're magnificent."


	13. Chapter 13

The kiss became more urgent and Syed had to summon an ocean of will to struggle out of the passion. Opening his eyes, seeing Christian's, tightly closed, the look of total absorption on his face, he groaned and murmured,

"Christian…"

"Syed…" Christian responded huskily. The pressure of his embrace increased and Syed felt his erection pushing against his thigh, bulging beneath the fabric of his shorts.

"Christian. We can't."

Surfacing reluctantly, abandoning the delicious pleasure of running his tongue along Syed's top lip, Christian touched the tip of his nose onto Syed's and asked plaintively,

"Why not?"

"Aw, poor darling. Poor me too. However, I have reasons."

"Spill. They'd better be good." Christian grumbled, setting Syed's wrists free and balancing on his elbows, resting his chin on his hands and waiting to see if Syed's explanation passed muster.

"Reason one..." Syed stretched his fingers, feeling the blood return with a tingle. "We are in a public place in the middle of the day. If anyone sees us, we will be arrested and probably deported for lewd frolicking and I, for one, don't fancy trolling back to Walford with our tails between our legs."

"Aargh, don't mention things between our legs! There's no one about. I checked. Only a few surfers and a couple of women working out and…"

"Knowing our luck, the imminent arrival of a group of evangelists on a day trip. Reason two, I am so embedded in this beach, I'll need digging out."

Grumbling, Christian rolled from on top of him and lay by his side.

"I had something I could have used as a handy fork."

"Ha ha! I'm regretting being so sensible now. I would have paid to see that!"

"Too late!" Christian tweaked Syed's ear. "Though I'm sure it would only take a minute to get it back."

"Down boy. Reason three; all the sand you shoved in my pants is chafing my knob."

"Aw! Sorry!" Christian gently laid his hand over Syed's crotch, slowly undoing his fly and grinned wickedly. "Let me suck it off."

Laughing, Syed batted at Christian's arm.

"Incorrigible. Reason four; doesn't Jane want to speak to us?"

The reminder struck Christian like a thorough dousing with ice-cold water and he sighed despondently.

"Yeah. You're right, Mister Sensible." Christian scrambled to his feet and retrieved his sunglasses and Moosey, waiting while Syed zipped up his jeans and fumbled with his shirt, tucking it in messily. Deciding not to bother with putting his socks back on, he rolled them into a ball and stuffed them in his pockets. Hastily cramming his feet into his boots, he winced as grains of sand pricked irritatingly at the soft skin between his toes.

"I need new clothes." Syed held out his hand and Christian grabbed it, yanking him upright and swinging his arm around his shoulders.

"I've been saying that for years."

"Fuck off, granddad jumper."

"Up yours, jim jams. Now we've got money, we can go shopping!" Christian beamed with glee at the prospect and began to propel Syed briskly towards the house.

"We don't know how much we've got yet, I haven't checked. It might have been a dead cheap one from…" Attempting and failing to think of a discount outlet, Syed invented one, "…House of Telly."

Christian laughed, quickly turning it into a snort.

"Where? As if! That boy doesn't do cheap."

They arrived at the iron gates set in the wall and Syed stopped.

"I'd like to send some to mum and dad." He kept his gaze on Christian's face as he made the suggestion, worriedly searching for any sign that he might resent the prospect. Instantly recognising Syed's need for approbation, Christian smiled gently, mentally bidding a sad farewell to a trip to Bai Harbour and the prospect of strolling in the sunshine, weighed down with armfuls of stylish designer carrier bags.

"Good idea."

Syed breathed out with relief and flipped down the latch on the gates, instantly dislodging flakes of rust that flecked his fingers.

"Maybe, if you like, we could spend a night in one of those swanky art deco hotels."

"Anywhere with a bed will do me just fine."

"And me."

Impatient at Syed's thwarted battle to open the gates, Christian manfully gave them a forceful shove, expecting them to swing wide. He pouted ruefully when they remained firmly shut, his ego withering, pulling a disgruntled face while Syed tittered. He pointed towards the windows of the sunroom, where Jane stood waving at them to abandon the attempt and go round.

"See. Obviously they've been welded shut."

Syed returned Jane's wave.

"I wonder what she wants to talk to us about. Do you think we're going to be told off?"

"You are. Castigated." Christian teased. "For breaking the eggs and trashing the lovely sofa."

"Castrated? Nooo! Not that! Anyway, you started on the sofa. It was me that stopped you from setting it on fire. That and the lack of matches."

Bickering cheerfully, they strolled to the front of the house and let themselves in. Navigating their way in single file through the crammed sitting room, Christian remembering to duck under the fan before Syed's nervous warning hiss, they joined Jane in the kitchen.

While a mortified Syed noticed the clean worktop, further distracted by the jug of batter mixture that had replaced the broken eggs, Jane narrowed her eyes at Christian, a small signal to check that everything was okay. Christian gave her the thumbs up and stroked the nape of Syed's neck, delectably warm from the sun, reassuring him.

"I thought we could have pancakes." Jane said and Syed tried not to be paranoid and defensive, convincing himself that she didn't sound accusatory.

"I'll make them!" He offered.

He opened a cupboard, confident it would contain a frying pan, because it was in the same position as where he and Christian had kept theirs in the flat. The unsuspected array of cleaning products within, some of them in industrial size bottles, filled to the brim with blue liquid, made him nauseous, a horrible association that was only partly soothed by the presence of an orange bucket. He slammed the door shut quickly.

"Not there then."

"Here." Jane reached above him and handed down a pan. "Though there's no need, Christian can do it."

"Can Christian? Why me?" Christian protested, positioning Moosey on top of the microwave. "Sy makes the best pancakes. I'll clear up the devastation afterwards and scrape the ceiling. What was it you wanted to discuss?"

Struggling with a pack of prepared salad, Jane seemed reluctant to say. Wordlessly, Christian took it from her, ripped the cellophane with his teeth and deposited the contents into a bowl.

"Jane?"

She brushed nervously at her blonde hair.

"Well the good news is, I spoke to Esther and I'm moving into her spare room, so you two can have a proper bed."

Pausing in mid pour, the yellow batter pooling and sizzling on the heat, Syed cheered.

"Hurrah!"

"Rah indeed." Christian agreed. "Is that it?"

"No. Mum's doctor says she's improving and we should start trying to get her mobile."

"This is all good news." Confused, Christian frowned. "You said it was important. I mean, obviously it is, but I was expecting something awful…"

Slumping onto a chair at the small pine table, Jane watched Syed flip a pancake into the air and catch it expertly.

"You're going to think it is. I need to go home. Next week."


	14. Chapter 14

Syed slid the spatula under the pancake, lifting and slipping it cleanly on to the plate beside him. As he poured in some more batter, he noticed he seemed to be performing each action in slow motion, anxiously waiting for either Christian or Jane to break the uncomfortable silence. He had to cross between them to reach the fridge. Brushing the back of his hand across Christian's stomach, he half expected the air to ripple before him like a force field, the wall of tension palpable and heavy.

"For a visit? You'll be back?" Christian asked levelly, opening the door of the oversized refrigerator for Syed, letting him duck under his arm.

"I have to go, Christian. Christmas is coming. I want to see Bobby and it's the restaurant's busiest time. They've been so good to me, giving me all this time off…"

"Compassionate leave. So they should, you're entitled." Syed said, poking around the shelves for ingredients. After a fruitless search for paneer, he grabbed a chunk of cheddar and bit his lower lip while he scanned the label to make sure it didn't contain animal rennet. He wondered if he should have made the comment, if it were any of his business, if he should have just stayed silent. Pulling out the salad drawer, he bent to look inside and contemplated trying to squeeze in, to wait in the cool until the conversation was over, but a faint smell of burnt egg made him quickly snatch up anything that looked suitable and scoot over to the stove.

"Sy's right." Christian's words, showing solidarity with his own, filled him with warmth and he smiled, secretly pleased, at the bunch of spring onions on the chopping board.

"They'll understand, surely?" From the corner of his eye, Christian spotted Syed looking from left to right whilst he tried to keep the pancake from sticking. Guessing exactly what he needed, he leaned over and pulled a knife from a drawer, sliding it carefully towards him.

Jane rubbed at her face wearily and as Christian turned away from Syed, he caught sight of her image in the shiny chrome of the microwave. Comically, in the reflection, she appeared to be wearing Moosey's dangling legs as a hat, yet there was nothing amusing about her expression. A whole weight of duty, a sadness of chances gained and then swiftly lost, made her seem to flow down into the chair, dangerously close to sinking onto the floor in a heap of resigned despair, none of the strength and fight he knew, respected, resented, expected, showing any signs of making an appearance.

"It's fine." Christian spoke firmly, with a resolve that didn't match the stirring of dread starting to churn inside him, faced with a future entirely at odds with the glittering adventure he had pictured. "You go." On the point of adding, "We'll manage", he checked himself, unsure if he should use the singular, if it was fair to inflict the care of his parents on Syed. He gazed at Syed, working intently; head bowed, focused on energetically grating cheese, mostly into a bowl, though with a quite a lot flying out, scattering all over the surrounding surfaces and felt a little, poignant, twist of adoration in his heart.

Jane's obvious relief brightened the room.

"You'll manage fine, Christian. She's always behaved better with you, mummy's little soldier and she is getting better, slowly, granted, but she should be mobile soon. You won't be on your own, Josef, her nurse, comes in three times a week. You'll like him, he's lovely."

Folding a pancake around the filling, Syed rammed a stray mushroom into the end with his finger and pursed his lips petulantly, forming an instant mistrust of the wonderful Josef.

'He won't be on his own, because I'm here.' He thought truculently and gave the pancake an extra savage jab.

"And he says she needs physical therapy, exercises. You're just the person for that…" Jane continued, the sense of an impending respite making her gabble excitedly. "…And with Syeed here, trained as a masseur, she'll be on the road to recovery in no time."

Syed grimaced, the prospect of massaging his mother in law striking him as slightly disturbing, but he glanced over his shoulder and managed to smile obligingly. Christian caught his eye and rolled his, making his mouth turn down at the edges in an apologetic droop.

"We'll do all we can to help." Syed said brightly, hoping to reassure and cheer his obviously gloomy husband. "Is Mister…" He hesitated, uncertain how he should refer to his father in law, if Roger was too chummy, or Mister Clarke too formal, or if Uncle Ji would confuse things. "…Your dad joining us for lunch?"

"He'll be at Juanita's." Jane answered.

"Who the fuck is Juanita?" All of Christian's guilt-ridden resentment, all the fear he felt about his ability to care for his mother without losing his patience, focused itself on his absent and lazy father and he burned with rage, angry that he appeared to have permission to blithely carry on enjoying himself as if nothing had happened, absolved from any duty.

"The Diner on the main road. Calm down, Christian. Try not to get in one of your fights with him, for mum's sake."

Sensing a row brewing, Syed noisily clattered the dish into the oven and clanged the door shut.

"Ready in twenty minutes." He announced, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

"Thank you, Syeed. I'll go and sort out a few more things from my room…" Jane almost bolted from the kitchen, racing as if she didn't dare give Christian a chance to change his mind and Christian sighed, covering his face with his hands.

"Come here."

Groaning, seeking solace, Christian fell into Syed's open arms. Syed rhythmically rubbed his back in an attempt to soothe him, the action having little effect on the tension deep within his muscles.

"Oh god! Sy, I'm going to have to do bed baths, bedpans, dress sores. Sores! Me! I feel sick."

"Aw poor darling. You can do it! Didn't you use to be a nurse in a former life?"

Pressed against him for comfort, Christian's breath blew warm on the skin of Syed's neck as he mumbled bleakly,

"In the hot boys ward, specialising in genital rehabilitation. Aaargh, I'm so sorry, this isn't what you signed up for."

"Signed up for? Ha! Did I miss the small print and the get out clause? You big soft numpty. I 'signed up', as you so romantically put it, to be with you, through everything."

"I know… but my parents."

"Well." Syed kissed Christian's ear. "I think I owe you on that one and at least your dad hasn't punched me. Yet."

"He couldn't raise the energy to punch a hole in a microwave dinner. So much for our great American adventure."

"Surely every day spent with me is an adventure?" Syed laughed and stepped away from the embrace, briefly peering through the oven's glass door to check on the pancakes. He reached to stroke Christian's cheek. "Tell you what, why don't we actually get some sleep tonight, radical I know, then tomorrow, let's use some of the money to give ourselves a night in a hotel."

"Yeah. And a day being swanky toffs. I love you, you know."

"I know!" Syed grinned and picked up the tea towel, flicking it at Christian's bare chest. "Why wouldn't you? I've made some fabulous crepes, which are not at all crepe."

Christian raised his eyebrow at the messy aftermath of his cooking, strewn across the worktop, the upheaval that Syed always left in his wake and ruffled his hair.

"Clever. I'm starving."

"And don't worry; I'll clear everything away, because I love you too. Oh!"

Taking a bottle of beer from the fridge, Christian regarded him quizzically.

"Oh what?"

"I've got a surprise for you."


	15. Chapter 15

"Syeed, that was delicious. Thank you!" Lining her knife and fork up neatly on her empty plate, Jane smiled across the table at Syed and he noticed that being relieved of a heavy burden for a little while had made her look younger, brought back a sparkle in her eyes.

"You're welcome."

Swallowing a final piece of pancake, Christian wiped his mouth with a serviette and leant across to rub Syed's back.

"He's awesome, he is." He said proudly.

"Oh hush, it was nothing special. I think Heston Blumenthal can rest easy in his liquid nitrogen. Coffee?"

Syed made to stand, intending to clear the lunch things away, but Christian gently pushed him down. Tugging at the neck of the t-shirt Jane had forced him to put on, claiming that the sight of his sweaty chest would put her off her food, he shook his head.

"I'll do it. Though I fancy a cold drink, I'm melting. Jane?"

"I'll have one please. I'm afraid we haven't got a swanky machine like yours and possibly only instant left…"

Christian affected an expression of sheer horror and put his hand on his hip.

"Oh my god! Vile! I feel dirty." He scraped the chair legs loudly on the floor, stood and laughed.

"Christian..." The furrow between Jane's brows deepened for a moment.

"What sis?"

"I was wondering…If we could go through a few things, while mum's still asleep. There's not much time before I go."

Turning away to switch on the kettle, Christian felt a surge of panic again and wished he could say no, wanting to petulantly wail, "Syed's got a surprise for me! Can't it wait?" Reminding himself that he wasn't five, he grinned cheerfully.

"Sure! Can we do it outside? Me and Sy are excited by sunlight and warmth. I know you'll understand. You used to live in Walford too."

"Ha ha! Of course. Mind you, I'm finding the prospect of a rainy day in Cardiff rather exciting, I must say. You two go. I'll bring the drinks out."

Christian yanked his shirt over his head and put it on the bench beside him. Stretching out his arms, he closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun. Sitting opposite, Syed ran his fingernail along the splintered grain of the rotting wooden picnic table and squinted at him, admiring the strength of his muscles.

"You okay?" He asked quietly.

"Me? Yeah. No. Dunno." Christian gave him a lopsided grin. "Shall we run away?"

"Where shall we go? St. Lucia? Acapulco? Timbuktu? Cydonia?"

"I like the sound of the last one. I could happily live there... Syedonia. Where's that?"

Syed took his hand and smiled into his eyes.

"Mars. Look!"

They watched as a small lizard, dry and yellow as sand, darted onto the table between them. Raising its head, it looked from side to side inquisitively, rapidly darted out a small, thin tongue and scuttled rapidly down, across Christian's knee. As soon as it reached the ground it seemed to disappear, perfectly camouflaged by its surroundings.

"Off to find a lounge." Christian remarked. "Can I have my surprise now? Or was that it."

"Yes. A random conjuring of lizards. Surprise! Twat. Later…"

"Ah!" Christian's mouth softened and he rubbed at the soft base of Syed's thumb. "THAT sort of surprise."

"One track mind. No, tonight we sleep. I'm looking on it as a challenge."

Christian groaned with disappointment and stuck out his lower lip.

"You're so damn strict. Here's Jane…"

He jumped up to help her with the tray, waiting until she was settled and they all had their drinks in front of them before saying,

"So. You go next week. We can't stay after our visas run out. Will you be able to come back? What happens then?"

She sighed and let a stream of cream curl on top of her coffee from a flowery, gold-rimmed jug, one he recognised from his grandparents' house. The sight of it evoked a memory, a smell of biscuits and freesias that overcame the scent of pine and the sea, brought with it a sense of history, family, love.

"I'm trying to make them come home with me." Jane answered and he sensed an air of defeat, a battle she already suspected was lost. "I think mum wants to, but dad's having none of it."

"Fucking selfish bastard."

Shocked at the venom in Christian's voice, the lack of respect for his father, Syed exclaimed sharply,

"You can hardly blame him!" He feebly indicated their surroundings, gesturing towards the ocean, withering under the steely glare that Christian shot in his direction.

"Yes I can. You have no idea…"

"He's set in his ways." Jane cut in, glancing at them worriedly, trying to avert the brewing row. "Anyway, they might not be able to stay here much longer. There's someone after the site, wants to demolish the houses and put up high-rise hotels and apartments. Esther's already seriously considering caving in. She's been offered a retirement condo near her son and a big payoff. I think she should be careful, you know what sharks these property developers can be…"

Still smarting from the censure, Christian narrowed his eyes.

"Don't say that in front of Syed. He used to pretend to be one, remember."

Syed blinked in shock at the barb. Thoughtfully turning his mug of coffee around, he attempted to quell his hurt and responded mildly, keeping his tone level and pleasant.

"The only thing I ever developed was a nervous tic and a shed load of debt."

'And an even better way to hide my real self.' He mused sadly.

Inwardly cursing himself for snapping, Christian gently touched Syed's cheek and mouthed "Sorry", reassured by the little dismissive movement of his head and his sweet smile.

"So, my mission, should I choose to accept it, is to nurse mum back to some sort of health and persuade Roger to give up his sybaritic life in paradise?"

"It's not impossible…"

"If anyone can, Christian can."

Jane's pathetic attempt at conviction and Syed's brave support made Christian laugh, a hollow joyless bark. Downing the last of his beer, he rose resignedly.

"Fabulous. I'm going to clear up and sort our stuff out while I mull over the tantalising prospect…"

Trying to drag Syed's case behind him, wheels catching on the uneven floorboards, bumping along as leaden as a fat Labrador on a lead, Christian gave up and let it fall. He stood dejectedly in the middle of Jane's bedroom, even his relief at the lack of bold floral prints and garish colours, his appreciation of the pale biscuit coloured walls, the crisp white linen on the bed, the pale wood shutters filtering the light from the window, failing to alleviate his glumness. He scowled at the multi coloured rag rug in front of the tastefully distressed cream chest of drawers, despising its cheeriness. Sunk in a reverie about bedpans and compression stockings, the warm tentative pressure between his shoulder blades made him jump and he turned, filled with remorse at the sight of Syed hesitantly hovering behind him, nervously studying his face, obviously trying to gauge his mood.

"Baby… I'm sorry I sniped, I was being an arse."

Syed nodded in agreement.

"Yes you were. I shouldn't have butted in, though. I've never even met your father. It's none of my business..."

"It is! It's my business, so it must be yours. My head's a bit fucked by all this. No excuse, I shouldn't take it out on you." Christian felt a wave of guilt, realising he was scared of being a bad son, of not being be able to cope and that the pressure of the situation would make him a bad husband. Another fear nagged at him, that Syed would end up hating him for forcing him into a situation that neither of them had bargained for, would feel he'd been duped, plunged into another claustrophobic family hell when he had only just found his freedom.

"That's what we do." Syed stated simply, without reproach. From behind him, he produced a carrier bag. "You can still have this, even though you're a git." Pulling out a cowboy hat, he plonked it forcefully on Christian's head and whistled appreciatively. "Sexy."

Grinning, Christian tipped the brim low over his eyes.

"You think?"

"I think…" Syed placed his hand over Christian's heart. "I'm here. You don't have to do this on your own. You looked after Yasmin brilliantly, so much patience. How different can it be?"

"Hmm. My mother's not quite so cute and her tantrums are worse."

"Don't try and put her in a princess outfit or make her eat carrot sticks…" Syed flicked at the hat. "…This isn't your surprise; it's a purely selfish gift, entirely for my benefit. I texted Amira while I was out. Tomorrow morning, we get to speak to our daughter."


	16. Chapter 16

"Christian! Oh, sorry…"

In the thin rays of light fanning through the shutters, it was hard for Jane to tell where Christian began and Syed ended, wrapped around each other, kissing with a slow, tender hunger, entirely absorbed.

She made to back quietly from the room, reaching to close the door behind her and banged her heel on Syed's discarded case.

"Shit!" The hissed oath filtered into Christian' consciousness and he opened his eyes, winking at her from beneath his cowboy hat. Dragging his hands out from under the waistband of Syed's pants, releasing the elastic with a snap, he took off the hat and put it on Syed's head.

"Was there something?" He asked archly. "We're quite busy."

"I can see!" Jane laughed. "Mum wanted to say hello to Syeed. I'll tell her he's otherwise engaged…"

"No, no! I'll come now." Adjusting himself before he turned around, Syed grimaced as Christian muttered, "No you won't." and prodded him in the balls. Whipping off the cowboy hat and thrusting it at Christian's stomach, Syed nervously smoothed his hair, unsuccessfully trying to tame it; feeling dishevelled, light headed from aborted passion and strangely shy. He glanced at Christian, who immediately sensed his apprehension and gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze.

"She won't bite you. We've hidden her teeth." He teased.

"Oh stop it, Christian. She might ramble a bit, Syeed." Jane waited while Syed tucked in his shirt, standing aside to let him pass in the narrow hallway.

"Must be where Christian gets it from. This door?"

Linda struggled upright against the pillows and pressed her lips together in an automatic gesture, smoothing the lipstick that she had forgotten she wasn't wearing.

"Hello dear. How are you?"

"I'm very well, Mrs Clarke. I'm sorry to hear you've been under the weather." Syed picked up a small boudoir chair, upholstered in bright pink velour, and positioned it by her bedside, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the overpowering scent of an artificial air freshener, sprayed liberally in an attempt to mask the insidious smell of antiseptic and sickness.

"Linda, darling. I thought I told you to call me Linda. Is my boy treating you right?"

Aware of Christian nonchalantly lurking by the doorway, pretending not to listen, Syed dismissed an impish urge to wail, "No! He beats me with twigs and makes me do unspeakable things!" and answered truthfully.

"He treats me very well, Linda. Very well indeed."

Linda chuckled, the sound turning into a cough that she gamely struggled through, wheezing,

"You're only saying that because he's hanging around earwigging." She made a shooing motion, waving a crumpled handkerchief. "Go away. You can let him be for a few minutes. He won't disappear…" Having successfully despatched Christian, who had shot her a dirty look, blown a kiss at Syed and sloped off to clean the kitchen, she frowned at Syed, inspecting him with such intense scrutiny it gave him the sensation that his soul was being magnetically resonated and totally revealed in three stark dimensions. Lowering her voice, she regarded him seriously.

"Don't you let him sweep you off into his wild romantic fantasies. Make sure you stand your ground. Don't go along with him just to keep the peace and make him happy."

"I will, won't. Yes." Bemused, Syed contemplated the fact that all he ever wanted to do was to make Christian happy, but he sort of understood what she meant and was grateful for her concern.

"Good. Sometimes it's hard to catch your breath with my son." She patted at her chest, as if the comment had reminded her of her own difficulties. "Are you getting enough to eat? How's your mother? Zaa…" She struggled to remember the name, befuddled by medication.

"Yes, thank you. Zainab. She's fine." He thought of adding the adjective 'indomitable' and grinned to himself.

"She must miss you. And your sweet little girl. So pretty! Jane showed me pictures."

"Isn't she!" A little warm tingle of excitement, knowing he would see Yasmin soon, flowered in Syed's heart. "I miss them too."

"Well it won't be long before you see them. What plans has Christian got for you?"

Syed sensed that she might be trying to trip him up and turned his wedding ring around on his finger.

"Our plans?" He smiled at her, placing the emphasis on the first word. About to continue, he hesitated, uncertain if Linda knew that Jane was leaving her to their care, worried that the information might trigger a terrible reaction.

'She might pelt me with Tena ladies…' He mused. 'Or have a relapse.'

Carefully, he pondered his response.

"We'll be helping to look after you."

She gaped at him, horrified and he felt himself make a movement, on the verge of an involuntary duck, half expecting the hail of incontinence pads he had imagined.

"You don't want to be doing that!" Linda exclaimed. "Young man like you, should be out having fun in the sun, seeing the world, making a life for yourself, not stuck here with a load of old fogies."

Mischievously making a mental note to pretend to Christian that he was included in the description, Syed protested,

"We're happy to!" He remembered Christian's stricken, agonised reaction to the prospect and doubted he had convincingly masked the lie. Sensing a presence behind him, he twisted in the chair with relief, expecting to see Christian.

"Hello lad. You must be Christian's fella. Hot enough for you?"

On the point of replying, "Yes he is!" Syed stopped himself, realising it might not be an appropriate comment to make to his Father in law and that he was probably referring to the weather. Instead, he uttered a mortifyingly squeaky noise and took the gnarled hand Roger held out to him, making sure his handshake was firm and manly enough to create a good first impression.

Roger hitched up his shorts and climbed onto the bed beside Linda, giving her a desultory kiss on her forehead before helping himself to a banana from the fruit bowl.

"Nice to meet you Mr Clarke…"

Raising an eyebrow, creasing his wrinkled face even more, Roger appeared unconvinced.

"You too lad." He tapped at his throat. "I'm parched. Could murder a cup of tea."

Taking this as his cue to leave, Syed rose hastily.

"I'll put the kettle on."

* * *

"Tea is required."

Christian stopped half-heartedly trying to remove splatters of cooking oil from the tiles behind the stove and lobbed his scourer, overarm, into the empty sink.

"You're alive!"

Puffing out his cheeks and rolling his eyes, Syed shook the kettle to make sure it contained water and switched it on.

"I've just met your dad."

"You lucky thing. Is the tea for him? Should have told him to make his fucking own."

"Now that might have been a little bit rude, seeing as I'm a guest in his home. He was alright. Asked if it was hot enough for me."

Christian snorted angrily and glowered.

"What's he mean by that? Probably his thinly veiled racism."

"Really?" Syed frowned. He hadn't suspected, or taken it as such and dismissed the notion as being further evidence of Christian's uneasy relationship with his father. "I don't think so. Ha! Your mum says I shouldn't be hanging around with old fogeys."

Outraged, Christian pursed his lips tightly.

"Did she? Cheeky besom. Well she must be feeling better." He jiggled at phantom fat on his waist. "This old fogey feels flabby. I thought I might go for a run on the beach; get out of here for a bit. You coming?"

"I'll slow you down."

Christian stretched out quickly and grabbed Syed's elbow, expertly pulling him, stumbling, into his arms.

"No you won't. I'm decrepit, according to my mother. Please. We'll find a pace that suits both of us."


	17. Chapter 17

Heavy with drowsiness, Syed stretched his toes under the white cotton sheet. He touched a little imperfection on the wall beside him, idly tracing the air bubble beneath the paper as he listened to the quiet ticking of the clock, the sound of the surf on the shore and Christian's slow, measured breathing. His eyelids grew heavy and he pressed closer, feeling Christian's rump against his hip. Allowing sleep to overcome him, he turned his head on the pillow and softly kissed Christian's broad back. On the point of murmuring "I love you", before he drifted into slumber, he was startled awake by the mattress rippling beneath him and Christian rolling over, yawning loudly in his ear and asking, "How are your blisters?"

Being reminded made the sore skin on his heels tingle painfully again.

"I'd forgotten. Hurt a bit now…"

"Aw! Sorry. Told you my trainers would be too big for you." In the half-light, Syed thought he detected the hint of a smug smile on Christian's face and immediately contradicted him.

"They were too small for my mahoosive feet. You know what they say."

Christian raised one eyebrow and grinned.

"Am I going to have to ransack the house looking for a tape measure again?" His hand slowly crept up the inside of Syed's thigh. With a huge effort of will, Syed stopped him.

"Naughty. Sleeping, not shagging. Anyway, I will always dispute that centimetre. How come you packed so many shoes? It's like travelling with Amira."

"Oh cheers." Christian pinched him and flung his arm across his waist, nuzzling into his hair. "Good job I did." He said, his voice muffled. "Or you would have had to run in your boots. We'll buy you shoes on our spree…We could do a bit of semi shagging, maybe? I'm awake now…"

Syed flicked at the tip of Christian's erection under the covers.

"Down boy. I'm saving myself for tomorrow night."

"You're so sweetly virginal! Except you're not. You're a tiger. Grrr."

Syed giggled, happily enduring the nibbling at his earlobe, enjoying the buzz that Christian's deep growl caused inside his head.

"I'm not giving in. I'm going to do things to you in that hotel room that will blow your mind."

"Oh god! Am I going to have to sort myself out?"

"You try and I'll chuck cold water over you. Go to sleep."

"Ohhh." Weak with frustration, Christian rubbed at Syed's shoulder, pawing at him like a cat on the wrong side of a locked cat flap. "Your lovely skin…"

"Is yours tomorrow." Firmly, Syed lifted Christian's arms and folded them over his chest, pulling up the sheet, tucking it tightly around his neck, using it as a restraint.

Christian looked at him pleadingly.

"We hardly ever lie in the same bed without doing something. You're always rampant."

"I am now." Syed confessed honestly. "I'm using an iron will."

"Iron willy."

"Shut up. Anyway, we have done. When the roof fell on my head, when I first got back from hospital, you wouldn't in case I broke, on the numerous occasions you've had man flu…"

"It was proper flu!" Christian protested.

"Of course it was dear… When we've been cross with each other…"

"Cross."

They were both silent, reliving the agony of nights turned away from each other, wanting passionately to break the divide between them, willing the other to be the one who reached out and shattered the ice, frozen with stubborn pride.

Somewhere, in one of the back yards of the other houses, a dog barked, echoing.

"Ha ha! Fucking thing's followed us." Christian pushed down the covers. Freeing his arms, he tenderly stroked Syed's hair. "You wait; we'll hear a tube train next."

"Trundling over the bridge, making the picture of the nudey man do that little irritating rattle… It's been good today, hasn't it?"

"Apart from Jane's bombshell..."

Shooting him a surprised, sideways glance, Christian mused that he'd had better and then recalled their jog along the beach, the teasing, their competiveness, the joy bubbling in his soul every time he saw Syed laugh in the sunshine. "Yeah, it has."

"Your mum managed to make it half way to the bathroom. Your dad joined us for dinner."

"What on earth was he talking to you about? I hope he wasn't being insensitive."

Christian's pressure on Syed's head changed. Wincing as he snagged a strand of hair in his fingernails, Syed sensed he was beginning to wind himself up.

"No" He reassured him quickly. "We had a lovely conversation about golf."

"Golf? What the fuck do you know about golf?"

"Loads now. I still know I'm not keen on the outfits…"

"It wasn't a golf outfit. You liked what was inside it."

"Oh yes." Syed agreed. "Oh yes I did."

He considered suggesting that maybe Christian's father wasn't so bad, that perhaps he should address their issues more rationally, for a quieter life, but held his tongue; deciding to wait until they had spent more time under the same roof, see if he was justified.

"And we've got our lovely new room."

Christian shifted, not liking to mention that he was in danger of slipping off the side of the bed.

"I do miss our king size. Jane told me that, when she first got here, the walls were covered in seventies flower patterns and the woodwork was bright orange."

"Orange? Sexy."

Christian licked Syed's cheek, hoping he was relenting.

"Just like you." He breathed.

The surge of lust made Syed's groin ache with the effort of ignoring it.

"We get to speak to Yas in the morning!" He chirped brightly, distracting Christian from his delicious onslaught.

"We do! Will Amira be there?"

"No, Christian. Our daughter is so brilliant she can operate Skype all by herself. In fact, I expect she'll be left some knives and matches to play with. Of course she will."

"Okay sarky! I meant will she be hanging around. Chatting."

"I don't know." Syed admitted, suspecting she would. "She likes a chat."

Figuring seeing Yasmin and having to filter out Amira's nattering would be preferable to not seeing her at all, Christian smiled.

"She does. What's her fiancé like?"

"Rafi? He seemed alright when I spoke to him on the phone."

"Hmm." Christian grunted. "I'm sure even Vlad the Impaler had a lovely telephone manner. What's he do?"

"Vlad might have. If telephones had been invented when he was around. He's a consultant gynaecologist at the Birmingham's Women's Hospital. Rafi, not Vlad."

"He'd spend a lot of time twiddling his thumbs if he was one at the Men's Hospital. Knows his way around lady bits then." Christian sniggered and nudged Syed with his knee.

"That'll be a relief for her." Syed shuddered. "Ugh." Memories caused a sick churning in his gut and he felt cold, moving closer to Christian to leach some of his heat. "Anything's got to be better than my pathetic attempts."

Testing the hurt, as if he were pressing on a livid bruise, Christian sent his mind back and realised, with relief, that past pain had begun to ebb, diminished to a small pang.

"You should have had a better imagination. Women's bodies are lovely."

"Christian! Is there something you need to tell me? Oh the irony… They are, I don't want to have to do stuff to them though. Do you remember, that time I stormed into the Vic and told you I'd managed it without thinking about you?"

"It rings a little bell."

"I lied. You were always in my thoughts, my mind, my heart. I'm so sorry."

Hearing the catch in Syed's throat, Christian hugged him tightly, kissing his tear damp eyelids.

"Hush. It doesn't matter anymore. Everyone got their happy ending. I must say, it's very modern of Amira living alone with her Rafi before they're married. Is he a Muslim?"

Syed's sniffle turned into a disapproving snort.

"Nominally. Hopefully not as nominally as Uncle AJ, apparently Rafi's an expert on fine wines. I think she's got her own room." Suddenly depressed by the success of Amira's new partner, he added, with a trace of bitterness, "Probably her own wing. She mentioned he'd bought her a car. He drives a brand new Mercedes C Class coupe, so I'm reliably informed."

"Get him. We'll have one, one day. No, we'll have something better. A Jaguar XKR-S Cabriolet…"

"With a top of the range BMW 5 series to do the shopping in." Syed looked through the gloom at Christian's profile, marvelling at his good fortune, that he was lucky enough to live his life with someone so handsome, his stomach tipping exactly as it had the first time he had seen him, striding into the unit, tall, strong, confident.

"Wonderful." He whispered.

"Eh?" Christian yawned again, widely. "One each. I'll have a red one."

"I don't care what we have. A neon pink Ka, some old beaten up rust bucket with the exhaust tied on with string, a bicycle, an all zones bus ticket, as long as I have you…" Resolve evaporated, Syed laid his hand on Christian's stomach and made to kiss him, his blood throbbing with desire.

"Christian. I give in…"

There was a soft snore in response and Syed put his finger under Christian's jaw, gently closing his mouth, hearing his teeth click together.

"Bollocks."

Laughing ruefully, he made himself comfortable, fitting against Christian's body as neatly as the right jigsaw piece and closed his eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

"Tissue!" Eyes red and puffy, Christian gestured blindly towards Syed and sniffed in an attempt to stop his nose from dripping on the laptop.

Syed picked up the empty box from beside him and turned it upside down, offering the soggy hanky in his hand, he croaked,

"All gone. You want this?"

Nodding bleakly, Christian took it and blew his nose, trumpeting loudly and tried to hand it back.

"You're alright. Keep it." Syed lifted the hem of his red tee shirt and bent to dab at the tears on his own cheeks. "We're rubbish."

"Bang go our butch credentials." Christian tenderly touched the dark screen before closing the laptop and placing it on the mahogany and glass coffee table in front of him. "She looked so pretty!"

"Didn't she! Not sure what Amira had dressed her in…"

"It was gorgeous! Aww, when she pointed and blew kisses and said daddies." Christian hiccupped back a sob and covered his face with his hands.

"Christian…" Syed soothingly rubbed Christian's back, trying to pacify him whilst also struggling to stop himself from crumbling and dissolving into a blubbering mess. "You don't think she was more excited to see Moosey than she was us?"

"Ha!" Christian managed a weak laugh. "Probably." He picked up the soft toy from its seat between them and stuck his tongue out. "Never trusted him, shifty bugger. You can tell by the set of his antlers."

"Sshh, he'll hear you and wreak a terrible revenge. Did you see the size of that garden?"

"Eh? You mean you noticed something other than our beautiful daughter?"

Syed tipped his head to one side and gave Christian a withering look.

"When she'd got bored and toddled off, and you and Amira were banging on about curtains. See! You noticed curtains. Beyond the expanse of cream carpet, through the big, wide, windows, a massive garden. With a swing."

"Won't be as good as the playground in Walford." Christian muttered.

"Yeah, with it's added fun of dog poo and broken beer bottles. Rafi looked nice, I thought, in that picture on the mantelpiece. Smiley."

"The distinguished, hot bloke, with the lovely teeth? Didn't see."

Christian slid his gaze and grinned at Syed's obvious and valiant attempts not to appear jealous.

"He was alright." Syed said, with false brightness. "Hair's receding a bit."

"Sign of virility. Aw baby, he's not a patch on you."

Syed wrinkled his nose, enduring Christian prodding him in the stomach and stated, reassured,

"Obviously. Who is? Stop it."

Obediently abandoning the onslaught, Christian curled his fingers around Syed's.

"Yas seemed happy, didn't she? And we can Skype whenever we want."

The realisation, that it wasn't the same, paltry compared to her constant presence, occurred to them both at the same time, but they left it unsaid, seeking each other's eyes, a gaze of pure love and understanding binding them together, providing a wealth of comfort.

"Oh lord. Did someone die? Is it Linda?"

Sensing the cloud of sorrow and seeing their puffy, tear blotched faces, Esther stood in the doorway and pressed her hand to her bosom.

"They've been talking to their daughter." Jane explained, appearing behind her. "Everything okay? When are you off?"

Christian lifted Syed's arm and checked the time on his watch.

"Fine. We'll just say goodbye to mum and then I'll call a cab."

"You leaving so soon?" Esther smoothed the seat of her dress and lowered herself carefully into an armchair. "Jane, honey, did you decide to stay?"

"No Esther. They're having a night in a hotel."

"Ah!" Esther winked and laughed so dirtily that it made Syed squirm in embarrassment. He stood quickly, grabbing onto Moosey.

"I'll finish packing the bag…" He announced, flustered as Christian brazenly ran his hand up the inside of his thigh.

"Okay sweetheart. I'll go and see mum."

"Have you been crying?" Linda peered at him over the top of her reading glasses and pushed the open crossword book across the bed.

"Little bit. We've been talking to Yasmin on the computer." Taking the pen from her hand, Christian squinted at the crossword and filled in ten down. "It's Mildew. Soft mould in the morning."

"What dear? She can work a computer?"

"No Mother. It's, oh never mind."

"Nice for your Syed, contact with his daughter."

"Our daughter." Christian corrected, unable to hide the snappiness in his response.

"Yes, but…" Linda took off her spectacles and folded them up. "…I suppose I'll never have grandchildren." She drooped, self-pitying and morose, unaware of the shot of pain she had caused her son.

"What are you on about? You've got Bobby, Lucy, Peter and now Yasmin."

"Hmm. They're not biological."

Christian bit the inside of his lower lip, fighting the urge to snap the pen in half and hurl it across the room.

"You make them sound like washing powder. Does it matter?"

"Poor Jane, with her insides all shot away, she'll never have her own and why you couldn't have met a nice girl and settled down…"

Sighing, Christian picked up a bottle of tablets from the bedside table and shook them.

"What are they giving you? You're out of your mind."

She blinked at him and, despite her drowsy befuddlement, summoned the energy to snap,

"Don't be so rude to your Mother!"

Taking a deep breath, Christian reminded himself to be patient and bit down the burning impulse to retort that he wouldn't, if she granted him the same respect and stopped being rude to him.

"Sorry, sorry. Look, me and Sy are going away for the night. We'll see you tomorrow evening."

"You're going? You only just arrived. Is it him? I knew he wouldn't want to stay. Why you couldn't find someone your own age, with no ties. Your poor sister. I knew you'd leave it all up to her, go chasing after him. You always were a fool…" She began to pluck at the sheet, a gurgling cough starting in her throat."

"Mum! Calm down. I'm not going forever…"

"Where's Roger? I want Jane. Get Jane."

"I'm here, mum!"

Panicking, he tried to restrain her, holding her, scared by the racking coughing fit that shook her whole frame, resisting her attempts to shake him off. The door opened sharply and Jane strode across the room, disentangling Christian's arms and forcing him down in the chair.

"It's all right, it's all right… Christian, what have you said?"

"What have I said? She went off on one…" He protested.

"Just go. Mum, it's okay… Christian will be back soon." She tipped some water from the carafe into a glass and held it to Linda's lips. Rolling her eyes at Christian, she whispered, "Don't worry. This happens sometimes. Have fun, see you tomorrow."

Waiting in the hallway, Syed instantly noticed Christian's stricken expression as he blundered from the room and reached out to him in alarm.

"What's happened?"

Christian grimaced and shook his head, leaning to rest his forehead against Syed's shoulder.

"Bad son." He murmured. "Take me away from here?"


	19. Chapter 19

"For the thousandth time, yes, I'm okay. I'm always cheered up by a new shirt…"

Smiling at the truth of Christian's comment, Syed studied his face carefully from across the table, still concerned by the signs of strain around his eyes.

"What?" Catching him looking, Christian paused, forkful laden with food halfway to his lips.

"Three new shirts, two new pairs of jeans, shorts, shoes, that vest…" Syed corrected and Christian grinned, stuffing the food in his mouth.

"Oh this old thing!" He mumbled, pulling at the tight red fabric.

Beside them, in the busy beachfront bar, a group of people rose to leave and one raised a glass to swig down the final dregs. It caught the bright sunlight, deflecting a glaring flash that made Syed squint. Swallowing, Christian asked,

"Where's your sunnies?"

"In the pocket of my swanky designer shorts!" Syed produced the sunglasses with a flourish and put them on, the price tag still attached, batting against his nose.

"Ha! Cool. Why've you left that on?"

"Because I can't quite believe I've spent that much money and I'm waging a battle of hideous guilt versus unashamed capitalist pleasure at my wanton abandon. It seems an age since I've had a pair that weren't cheap knockoffs from the market…" He removed them and thoughtfully bit through the thin white plastic cord that held the tag onto the bridge. The small piece of card dropped and he fished it from his meal, stowing it away, saving it to marvel at later. "Are home cinema systems really that expensive?"

Christian placed his fork onto his now empty plate and leaned back on his chair, savouring the pleasant sated fullness of his stomach.

"I doubt if Michael got it from Argos. He probably bumped up the price because he loves you."

"Do you think? Silly flash numpty. I feel bad for squandering it."

"Why? He would have. We'll buy him and Rory a racehorse if they ever get married…" Christian grabbed the laminate menu, wondering if he could find room to squeeze in dessert, instantly distracted by a list of upcoming events listed on the back. "… Ooh, Drag Madness here tonight."

"Do you want to come?"

"Yes." Christian winked, lowering his voice and regarding Syed so suggestively it made him go weak. His tingling fingers seemed to lose all power and his veggie burger fell from his grip with a quiet splat. "All over you."

"Christian!"

"Well, you asked. Is that nice? My Diva Salad was awesome."

Fending off the probing hand as Christian tried to grab the last of his meal; Syed relented and let him eat it.

"Such an appropriate choice for you." He said dryly. He fiddled with the sunglasses and frowned. "I'm wondering if we should have spent less, saved it to make an investment."

Groaning inwardly, Christian managed not to snap, "After last time?" or make a snide comment about Toilet Duck, answering instead,

"We have. In our super hotness and pleasure. Besides, you were melting in your London clothes and I can't make love to a puddle."

Syed giggled. "For a minute I thought you said poodle…" He watched two young men, toned and handsome, each wearing the smallest pairs of swimming trunks he had ever seen, dodge around a car on the road and run, shrieking towards the beach. He tugged self-consciously at the knee of his shorts, still feeling overdressed amongst the displays of naked flesh all around him. "Sam would think he'd died and gone to heaven in this place."

"Wouldn't he! We'd have to put him on a leash." Christian beamed at the approaching waiter, taking in his shaved head, broad chest and deep tan appreciatively and mused how once upon a time, he'd have needed one too.

"Hey guys! Did you enjoy your meal?" With a flash of perfect white teeth, he blatantly checked them both out, gaze lingering a little too long on Syed's crotch as he efficiently cleared their plates with practised ease.

Christian pushed at Syed's foot under the table.

"Awesome, thank you stud."

Syed nodded, smiling broadly in return and pushed his hair away from his forehead, ignoring Christian mouthing "you tart!" at him.

"Very nice."

"Can I get you anything else?"

"Sy, is there anything more you want from this gorgeous man?"

Glowering, Syed returned the push with a sharp kick.

"No, thank you. Just the bill."

"The check? Sure."

A burning sensation crept up the back of Syed's neck, aware that the waiter was continuing to gawp at him as he left and he hissed at Christian,

"You sod."

"He fancied you!" Christian began to hum a few bars of a song and Syed slapped his hand on the table.

"I knew you'd cave! Ha! You have failed todays challenge."

Innocently, Christian opened his eyes wide.

"But that wasn't the song you bet I couldn't help but sing, oh tone deaf one. Anyway, you failed last night. Caved totally in your no shagging rule."

"No I didn't!" Syed protested vehemently. "We never did it."

"Oh but you wanted to. I felt your cock prodding against my leg. Prod, prod, prod." Christian twirled the straw in Syed's glass of juice, making the ice clink musically, took a sip and blew a small splatter onto his chin.

"Fuck off!" Wiping away the liquid with his napkin, Syed pouted sulkily. "Were you pretending to be asleep?"

"Nope." Christian handed over his credit card to the returning waiter and punched in his pin code on the card reader. Taking the receipt and passing over a generous tip, he stood and held his hand towards Syed. "It woke me, but then you were drifting off and you looked all sweet and snuggly, so I comforted myself with my victory."

"Comforted yourself how? That doesn't count…"

"Not like that. Smugly. Content in the fact that, yet again, I was victorious."

Christian swung his arm around Syed's shoulders and pulled him close, kissing his cheek and they wove their way through the chattering crowds outside the bar, the testosterone and exuberance emanating so thickly that it could almost have formed a fog hanging in the warm summer air. They strolled along the beachfront, admiring the Art Deco buildings, taking in the vibrancy, the new sights. Storing all his problems away, allowing himself to believe, at least for one day, that the only thing he needed to do was love Syed and be loved in return, Christian started to hum again.

"It is the forbidden song, I swear it is. You owe me." Syed insisted.

None too subtly changing the tune, Christian sang, "I've got a feeling…" He jabbed his thumb at Syed, who sighed and obediently intoned, "woo hoo"

"… That tonight's gonna be a good night. See? Wrong."

Christian stopped suddenly, leaning down to take off his flip-flop and shake out a piece of grit and Syed stroked the curve of his back.

"Okay. Okay. Christian?"

"What babe?" Using him as support, Christian twisted to smile.

Syed gripped the back of Christian's vest, beset by an irrational fear, recalling Christian's response to the waiter's overt attention.

"Didn't you mind that man ogling me?"

With a sense of relief, Christian realised he hadn't, that there had been no being seized by a jealous rage or plunged into a misery, no working himself into a frenzy of paranoia, worrying that Syed would be tempted.

"As long as that's all he did, no. It made me proud. I felt nothing but pity for him and appreciation for his excellent taste. I've got a beautiful hotel room waiting for me and I'm on a promise with the sexiest man alive. And I'm on Ocean Drive…" Christian turned his face to the blue sky and laughed with delight, singing loudly "…The sun's gonna shine on everything you do."

"Yes! I win!" Syed did a little shuffling dance of triumph, releasing his hold on Christian. Almost toppling over, Christian managed to right himself and batted him gently on the head with his flip-flop.

"Then we'd better get back so I can give you your prize. It's a big one."


	20. Chapter 20

_**Sorry for the wait. Smut alert. :) xx**_

* * *

Syed hadn't had a chance to take in very much about the hotel room before. They had checked in, dumped their overnight bag, Christian hurling it beside the bed and firmly grabbing Syed's hand to drag him away to the shops. There had been a brief return, to change into new outfits, again leaving no time to relax, try the bed, admire the furnishings or marvel at the random provision of a trouser press. A breezy reassurance that he looked fabulous, urgent insistence that he stopped poncing about and hurried up and then Syed found himself swept away to the beachfront bar in the exhilarating, exhausting current of Christian's enthusiasm.

Drawing a breath in the doorway, key in his hand, he smiled. Shiny paper carrier bags with coloured string handles, each bearing a different store's swirling logo, littered the floor. Discarded clothes flopped down the sides of the rumpled double bed, dark red sheet no longer turned down neatly. Dangling over a button back chair, upholstered in crisp, modern, zesty green chambray, his jeans looked faded and incongruous, a uniform from another world.

Christian sorted through the literature on the bleached wood dressing table, checking out the menu for room service, cheerfully whistling Ocean Drive.

Syed ignored the defiance and looked at his own reflection in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe. Flipping down the new sunglasses from their perch on top of his head, smoothing at the front of his tee shirt, turning from side to side to admire himself from all angles, feeling reborn, choosing to ignore the constant niggle of guilt at the profligacy of their spree.

"Vain!" Christian tutted theatrically and picked up the carrier bags, tweaking Syed's hair as he jostled him out of his way. The wardrobe door opened and Syed watched his image disappear while Christian hung up the clothes and piled the empty bags into a corner. Closing the door with a firm click that made the hangers rattle, Christian manhandled Syed into his former position and stood behind him, arms around his waist.

"There you go sexy; you can carry on admiring yourself now."

"Why thank you! Don't mind if I do." Syed laughed and slid his hands along Christian's forearms, feeling the hairs brush against his palms, pulling him in closer. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, he knew that Christian wouldn't be able to see, beneath the heavily tinted shade of his sunglasses, how the sight of him, tall, broad shouldered, handsome, the flurry of lust at the pressure of his groin against him, had made his pupils wide with desire, brought tears of joy glistening at the corners.

Christian kissed him noisily on the cheek, blowing a raspberry against his skin and broke away, striding across the thick, soft carpet to throw open the windows that led to a small balcony.

"Sy. Look!" Excitedly, he beckoned to Syed to join him. Syed removed his sunglasses, surreptitiously wiping away a tear and folded them carefully into their case.

"What have you seen? Nudist beach? Knob frenzy? Have they bunged us in a room overlooking the bins?" Leaning against him, basking in the afternoon sun, Syed regarded the scene below. Busy crowded street, chattering and hubbub wafting thinly upwards from the figures, small as ants, below, faint music from the bars and restaurants, battling in a clash of beats, the tops of gaily coloured umbrellas, billowing slightly in a soft breeze and beyond, the white sand and the clear blue ocean, stretching to the horizon.

"We've got a room with a view!"

Reaching to touch Christian's face, gently tipping his chin, turning him towards him, Syed smiled.

"I'm looking at all the view I need."

"Yeah?"

Ducking his head, Christian found Syed's warm open mouth with his own, tasting him with a long tender kiss that made them both stumble slightly. Breaking away, Syed murmured,

"Get undressed."

Urgently tearing off his own tee shirt, not caring if it ripped, he struggled with the zip on his shorts, letting Christian take control, sliding it down with practised ease, almost lifting him free, divesting him of shoes, pants, in one swift movement.

"I bet you can do that thing with tablecloths…"

Pausing in the act of wrestling off his own clothes, unable to hear properly above the pounding of his pulse in his ears, Christian blinked.

"Eh?"

"It doesn't matter..." Syed stroked the curve of Christian's buttock, fingers trailing tantalisingly between his thighs, towards his scrotum. "Lie down on the bed." He commanded.

Christian arched one eyebrow and grinned.

"You ordering me about?"

"Yes. I am masterful. Do as you're fucking told."

Strolling casually, knowing that Syed's gaze was on every sway of his hips, Christian did as he was told, stretching out luxuriously on the centre of the bed, watching while Syed crouched, naked, sorting through their bag until he found two bottles. Straddling Christian, balanced on his stomach, he poured massage oil onto his hands and rubbed them together, warming the liquid, applying it in long sweeps across Christian's chest, working deep into the muscles, tongue held between his teeth as he focused on delivering all the pleasure he could.

Groaning, Christian groped for Syed's erection, but Syed deftly avoided him, firmly fending him off.

"Wait…"

"Can't…"

"Sure?"

"Positive."

"Go on then…"

Christian lifted him, throwing him onto his back and Syed let out a yelp of laughter. Compliant and eager, he wriggled down, raising his pelvis, hitching his legs around Christian's neck. He heard the click of the other bottle and felt Christian grip his shaft, shuddering with a gasp as he pushed slowly inside him.

The full moon, hanging round and low above the sea, sent pools of light into the darkened bedroom. Christian woke with a start, throat dry with thirst. He slipped carefully out from under Syed's arm, wincing at the aches from hours of lovemaking and padded to the bathroom. Returning, he paused, glass of water at his lips and leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of Syed, sprawling and tousled on the tangled sheets, skin glowing in the eerie beams, etching the shadows of sinews on his lithe limbs, beautiful face open and innocent in sleep.

Christian swallowed and pressed the cold glass against his heart, the overpowering weight of his adoration making him want to weep.

"Tablecloth…Ta da!" Syed mumbled in his sleep and pressed his curled fists against his face, frowning slightly.

Quietly, desperate not to disturb his slumber, Christian lay beside him and whispered into his hair,

"Oh my America, my new found land... I love you so much and I don't know if I can bear it."


	21. Chapter 21

Syed inhaled deeply, smelling the familiar warmth of Christian's skin and half opened sleepy eyes. He could feel Christian's arm beneath his neck, cradling him and smiled, carefully shifting his weight, knowing that he would wake and subtly pretend it hadn't gone numb in the night, would surreptitiously flex and straighten his muscles until the feeling returned, not wanting Syed to know that he had suffered to protect his comfort.

Curling his fingers into Christian's chest hair, Syed let his lids close, bright sunlight pouring across them on the bed, shining through the window, the curtains, that they had never got round to drawing, flapping gently in the quiet breeze from the sea.

Christian yawned, his rib cage rising beneath Syed's cheek. Voice rumbling into Syed's ear, he drawled drowsily,

"Morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Like the truly shagged. Had a really weird dream that a magician kept quoting poetry at me, pulling rabbits from his trousers and tickling me with them…"

"Ha! You're weird. What time is it?"

As Syed crawled over his body to reach their watches on the bedside table, Christian ran his hand down the length of his spine and slapped his buttock.

"Ow. Half past nine." Syed wriggled back and lay on top of him. Noticing the expected stealthy movement, he asked, brow furrowed with concern, "has your arm gone dead?"

"Nah…" Christian lied, ignoring the tingling pins and needles. "My cock's not dead either."

"Ah, so that's what's sticking in my stomach then. I wondered."

Christian grinned,

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

"Starved." Blinking innocently, lashes brushing against Christian's, Syed slowly licked his lips. "I fancy Waffles, They're waffly versatile…"

"Shall I call room service?"

"Oh I don't think we need them just yet. I can have an appetiser…"

Uttering a little growl of delight, Christian gripped Syed's hair as he slid down to take him in his mouth.

* * *

Christian rubbed at his hair vigorously with a towel and smiled at the comatose Syed. Wondering whether to wake him, he leant over the bed and a droplet of water fell onto Syed's face, making him snuffle and stir, wrinkling his nose.

"Did I fall asleep again?"

"You came, very noisily, told me you loved me and then passed out. I've sent down for some breakfast…"

A polite knock at the door made Syed sit bolt upright and scrabble for the sheet to cover himself.

"…Which has arrived. Ha ha! You're such a filthy demon in bed and yet, sometimes, so terribly, terribly prim." Christian tied the towel around his waist and headed for the door, reassuringly adding over his shoulder, "don't worry. I won't let them in… Hi! Thank you. I'll take that."

Christian clattered past with a tray, easily carrying the heavy weight out onto the balcony and Syed clambered out of bed to follow him, pushing back his tangled hair.

"What did we get? Did you…"

"Get waffles? Course. And maple syrup. Bacon and eggs for me."

"Sunny side up?" Syed found a pair of pants on the floor and put them on inside out, salivating, too hungry to care. He dragged out a metal chair and sat down opposite Christian, eagerly lifting the metal cloche from one of the plates.

"Over easy." Christian poured out two cups of coffee from the pot and passed one to Syed with a grin. "This is the life, eh Sy?"

He studied Syed's open, happy, expression, the absence of worry and stress, thinking that it was how he always wanted him to be, that no matter what sacrifices he had to make, he needed to preserve his look of freedom forever.

"It surely is. Shame we can't always live like this."

Syed dripped a generous dollop of syrup onto his waffle and took bite, white teeth making a semi-circle in the crisp ridges.

"Yes…"

Absentmindedly, Christian reached to wipe a golden drop of sticky sweetness from the corner of Syed's top lip with his finger. Offering it to him to lick, he muttered, "bubble" so softly that Syed didn't hear.

"Yummy. I suppose we'd better be making tracks soon. I'd like stop off at the mosque on the way, if you don't mind? I won't be too long."

"No. Of course I don't mind. I should get back though; you take your time… Might be an idea to have a shower first."

Syed pulled a face at him.

"Duh. No shit. Are we getting a cab, or shall we walk along the beach?"

Wanting to opt for the latter, to delay the inevitable return to his responsibilities, Christian sighed, answering pragmatically,

"It's quite a way and we've got all our new stuff. Jane will probably be getting her knickers in a twist. She needs to sort things out, get ready to leave."

"Boo. You're right. She's so excited, isn't she? How long is it since she saw Bobby? She'll hardly recognise him."

"No." Realising Syed was on the point of noticing that his mood had dipped, Christian made a sudden lunge for his plate. "Can I have one?"

"Bug off and eat your bacon… Oh go on then."

Laughing, Syed picked up one of the sticky waffles and pressed it firmly onto Christian's chin.

* * *

Standing in front of the rusty insect screen, Christian let his hand drop to his side. He recalled Syed leaping from the cab, how he had watched him through the back windscreen, hovering at the side of the road, momentarily confused by the direction of the traffic. An obvious fear, that a cop might appear and tell him off for jaywalking, made him wait dutifully for the lights to change before, with a wave and his hair flying, he sprinted out of sight. He had seemed the very epitome of joy and when he disappeared from view, Christian felt a heavy, inexplicable, wave of sadness, incompleteness, as if his soul had gone with him.

From inside the house, he heard his mother call for Jane, the sound thin and wheedling. He yanked open the screen, the base of it catching on the wooden boards of the porch, emitting a screech that made him wince. Pulling himself to his full height and squaring his shoulders, he told himself he was a twat and stepped over the threshold.


	22. Chapter 22

"Hey! Christian! Oh bollocks…"

Out of the sunlight, in the cool shade of the sitting room and having forgotten he was still wearing his new sunglasses, Syed bumped into an occasional table and sent a framed photograph of Jane's first wedding crashing down. Carefully righting it, relieved the glass was still intact, he took off his shades and grinned at the sight of a much younger Christian. Standing at the back of the smiling family group, tall and haughty, turned slightly away, he seemed to be trying to detach himself, as if he found the whole rigmarole entirely ridiculous and beneath his contempt. Syed touched the picture, saying softly,

"My, haven't you changed for the better? Thankfully, especially, that very strange haircut…"

He wondered why the house was so quiet, where everyone could have gone, idly musing that there might have been some cataclysmic event he had missed, wiping all life from the planet and leaving him completely alone. The thought of a world without Christian caused an instant physical reaction, making him feel nauseous and he swallowed, grimacing at the taste of bile in his mouth. Wryly amused at how the fanciful notion had affected him, he made his way to the kitchen and dipped his head to drink straight from the tap, holding back his hair.

"Force the faucet…" He muttered, shutting off the gush of water with a quick twist of his wrist. As the noise abated, dwindling to an irritating drip onto the empty plastic washing up bowl, he heard a familiar high yelp of laughter coming from Linda's bedroom.

About to knock on the door, a second, unrecognisable, chuckle, made him pause, suddenly hesitant, worried he might be intruding. Linda's voice came faintly through the thin wooden door, pretending to chastise but obviously entertained.

"Pack it in! I'm doomed with you pair looking after me."

Syed took a step back, jumping when he bumped against something soft.

"Mister Clarke! Sorry I didn't see you…"

Roger's lined face creased further as he smiled briefly. Folding the newspaper he carried, he tucked it under his arm and nodded behind him, down the narrow, dark hallway, towards the bathroom.

"I'd give it a minute, if you need to go in there. What's up, son? They locked you out?"

"No, no. I'm just…" Flustered, Syed let the sentence tail off, realising he had no idea what he was just going to do, knowing he had left it too late to make an entrance and it was entirely apparent that he was loitering suspiciously, eavesdropping. He thought he detected a gleam of sympathy in Roger's eyes, almost conspiratorial and was surprised that he appeared to be on the point of saying something, imparting a confidence, breaking down a barrier. The moment passed in an embarrassing silence, broken by Roger jabbing his thumb towards the front door and announcing,

"I'm off out. Get the boy to tell the wife."

"Sure…"

Whistling, Roger strolled away, reminding Syed of Christian in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. Aware it wouldn't be advisable to tell him this, imagining the look of horror the suggestion would be greeted with and the inevitable outrage at being found in any way similar to his father, Syed watched the insect screen slam shut and decided to make himself useful. Thwarted by the fact that all the housework seemed to have been done and that he couldn't find the hoover to do it again, he contemplated fixing the dripping tap. Only having no idea where the stopcock might be, or a spanner, or a washer and the additional drawback of having no idea of how to do it, prevented him from carrying out the plan. Slightly depressed by his apparent futility, he mooched aimlessly to his and Christian's room.

The overnight bag had been unpacked and all their new things were either hanging in the wardrobe or stored neatly away in the chest of drawers. In the process of struggling with the difficult decision of whether to have a nap on the bed or outside on one of the sun loungers, Syed spotted the clothes they had bought for Yasmin, folded carefully on top of the dressing table, being vigilantly watched over by Moosey.

Christian wrinkled his nose and waved his hand in front of his face. Striding past the bedroom, he caught a glimpse of Syed and slowed to a halt, quietly taking three steps back to watch him from the doorway.

Lost in thought, turned away from the shuttered window, Syed held a small pink dress tenderly in his hands, his expression soft as he touched the fabric of the Peter Pan collar. Christian's presence filtered into his consciousness, a magnetic pull, which he was barely aware of, making him glance up and turn with a smile so sweet it made Christian's breath catch in his throat.

"Hello. You perving at me?"

With a dip of his eyelashes, Christian returned the smile.

"Always. There's a god-awful smell coming from the toilet. Was that you?"

"Fuck off! It was your dad. He says to tell you to tell your mum, he's gone out."

"Dirty git. I don't know why he thinks anyone needs to know where he is. He's as much use as a chocolate teapot…"

Christian entered the room and slumped onto the edge of the bed. Holding Syed's hips, he twisted him around, pulling him to stand between his open legs. Enclosing him with his thighs, he kissed his navel through the thin fabric of his tee shirt.

"…How long have you been back? You should have come to find me."

"Not long. I didn't like to disturb you. You had a visitor."

"You always disturb me. That was Josef, mum's nurse. He's gone now. I would have introduced you, if I'd known you were here."

"I know…" Syed held the dress between his fingers of one hand, rubbing the other over Christian's short hair. "… What's he like?"

"He's a bear." Christian answered and Syed giggled at the mental picture the comment evoked.

"Literally?"

"Yes, Sy. Literally. He's a grizzly bear in a comedy nurses uniform, with a jaunty little cap." Unwittingly, Christian hit upon the exact image in Syed's head. "No, in the other sense. A big, friendly, camp as tits, bear."

"Camper than Sam?"

Christian snorted with amusement.

"There is no one in the entire universe camper than Sam."

"What about that boyfriend you had? What was his name? Like a place in London…"

Flushing slightly, Christian frowned, the memory, of how he had used someone to hurt Syed and the ensuing jab of guilt, making him grumpy and defensive.

"Hounslow. You mean Leyton. He wasn't my boyfriend."

"You said he was."

"You and Amira had apparently had a wonderful honeymoon."

They glared at each other until Syed broke first and laughed, digging his nails into Christian's scalp.

"Touché. Is Josef nice, then? You seemed to be getting on."

Syed tried to sound matter of fact, to mask the sneaking jealousy and the waspishness it brought with it.

"Ooh, are those beautiful brown eyes turning green? Not really my type, gorgeous. Mum was asleep when he got here, so we had a good chat."

"What about?"

"Stuff. The scene in Miami, our hotel, Drag Madness…"

"Is he in it?"

"Ha ha! With that beard? He'd make a rubbish woman. No, a couple of his friends are. Places to see, clubs, surrogates…" Christian rushed the word, not daring to gauge Syed's reaction and quickly changed the subject. "…He told me a lot about the care mum will need."

Pressing his lips against Christian's forehead, Syed mouthed, "one day," and broke away, asking, brow furrowed with concern, "daunting?"

"Terrifying. Sy…" Christian took Yasmin's dress from Syed and touched each of the iridescent mother of pearl buttons that fastened it, avoiding meeting his eyes.

"…Don't go off on one, but I think it might be a good idea if, when Jane leaves, you go with her."


	23. Chapter 23

Shocked, Syed jerked his head back sharply and narrowed his eyes, trying to study Christian's expression, searching for hints of devilment, waiting for him to grin and say 'gotcha'.

"You're joking, right?" He laughed nervously. "That's the shittest idea since…" The first other shit idea that sprang to his mind was his misguided cleaning product investment, but he swallowed that example and trailed off lamely, "…buying the wicker sofa." He had hoped for at least a hint of a smile, not for Christian to keep stroking the small buttons on Yasmin's dress and resolutely avoiding his gaze. "Christian? Jane wouldn't want me staying with her. Where is she anyway? Ask her. She'll think you've gone mad."

'I think you've gone mad.' Syed thought and tenderly touched Christian's jaw.

Sighing, Christian carefully folded the little dress and put it on the bed beside him. His movements slow, trying to remain composed and sensible, intent on convincing himself he was doing the right thing, that it was for the best, he took Syed's hands in his own and said, his voice deep and level.

"She ran off to Esther's, chucking me in at the deep end to see if I drown, the cow. She did say she'd sort out the insurance on the car so we, I, can drive it, so I might forgive her. You don't have to go to Cardiff, you could go home…"

"To Walford? Fuck off. That's not my home. You are. What's brought all this on? We were so happy this morning. What have I done?"

"You haven't done anything, Sy! It's been wonderful. I wish I could make every day like that for you, perfect, how you deserve to live… All of my time and energy needs to go to mum. You'll be bored out of your mind hanging around here with nothing to do…"

"Then let me help, you twat. And it's not like it's a great hardship. Oh dear, Christian's a bit busy doing a bed bath, I'd better go and lie on the beach. You're being silly."

Twisting his fingers through Syed's, Christian shook his head firmly.

"I'm not. I'm being practical. One of us needs to earn some money. For the future."

"Oh right." Syed snapped, pulling free and scraping his hair away from his forehead. "So at least you've decided we do still have a future. I could get work here. One of the guys I met at the Mosque today owns a restaurant. I'll ask him for shifts, cash in hand."

"Yeah, 'cause working at the Argee went really well for you, didn't crush your soul at all. What if you got found out? Deported? Look, it makes sense. With the money we've got left and when Rox pulls her finger out and sells our stuff, you can rent us somewhere. Probably better if you sort it out anyway, I doubt she'll ever get round to it, or if she does, she'll get us a rubbish price. Crash with Michael and Rory for a bit, if you don't want to go back to the square. Then you could stay with Amira while you find us somewhere nearby, that house looked huge…"

"That would go down well." Syed sneered. "I'm sure Rafi would be over the moon at having the gay ex-husband skulking in the spare room. Get real, Christian. You want rid of me."

Groaning, Christian slumped, briefly closing his eyes and rolling them beneath the lids.

"You're being ridiculous. It'll be two months, tops. We managed when I went to Gran Canaria, didn't we? If you don't want to go to England, I'll give Carlo a call. He'll find you a job in his bar…"

"I'm sure he would." Syed spat. "He could call in the favour. Have that go on your cock he's always wanted." Regretting the attack as soon as he'd made it, he randomly opened a drawer and slammed it shut.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Christian hissed. "You're talking crap. Stop it and calm down. Mum'll hear."

"I'm talking crap? You can't make decisions for me, I'm not a kid."

"You're doing a fucking good impression of one. Do what you want. You usually do."

Christian wearily made to stand; tired of the argument, secretly relieved that Syed had rejected the chance to leave. He gasped in surprise as Syed whipped round and shoved him in the chest, causing his knees to buckle, sending him dropping down onto the mattress with a bump and a squeak of springs.

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm selfish, am I? Look at yourself, Christian. It's him, isn't it? That Josef. One minute everything's brilliant, then a cosy chat with him about the 'scene'…" Syed waggled his fingers in the air, emphasising the inverted commas and immediately wished he hadn't, feeling foolish. A rational, sensible voice in his head pleaded gently with him to stop, mildly pointing out, as Christian had tried to, that he was, indeed, being ridiculous. It enraged him further and he knew he was powerless to stop, hurt and fear brewing him into a maelstrom of mindless anger. "…and you want me out of the way, so you can relive your filthy youth…"

"What? That's bonkers. And my youth wasn't filthy, thank you. Just because…"

Christian closed his mouth with a clunk, top teeth jarring painfully against the bottom, aware that finishing the sentence would only add fuel to Syed's flames, that the words were cruel and unfair, that the possibility that Syed might one day wonder if he had missed out terrified him, finishing it silently in his mind. '…You spent yours in denial and I spent mine having fun.' Aloud, he added, "When am I meant to find time to do this fantasy rampaging through the entire gay population of Miami, that I'm not remotely interested in? My whole point, if you'd only listen, is that I'm going to be busy caring for my mother. I don't want you to feel neglected."

Syed bit savagely at the corner of his thumbnail, wincing as it tore away from the soft quick.

"Then why won't you let me help you? You're being the same insufferably proud, arrogant arse as ever. What am I? Your pretty little bit of stuff, all right for a shag and a laugh, but hopeless for the serious stuff? I'm supposed to be your husband, yet you won't let me be a proper part of your family. You're sidelining me, shutting me out. Have you any idea how that feels?"

Gripping his hands together, Christian looked into Syed's glowering face, a muscle in his cheek throbbing tensely. The air in the room became insufferably heavy and Syed felt the pressure drag painfully at his lungs. The polite ticking of the clock movement, inside the cheerful flowery china casing, the slim gold second hand sweeping inexorably around, seemed to magnify into an ominous pounding, a bomb waiting to explode. Syed imagined it bursting with a twang of cogs, spewing its contents with a weedy puff of smoke, as unimpressive as a cheap indoor firework.

"Yes." Christian said. "Funnily enough, I do. This isn't the same."

"No. Because that wasn't my choice. Oh for fuck's sake, this is pointless. You've obviously made up your mind what's best for me. Far be it from me to have any sort of free will."

Christian noticed Syed's eyes dart towards the open door.

"That isn't fair, Sy. Look, just storm out, if you're going to. I've got to go through a list of exercises for mum that Josef's given me…"

"Well I wouldn't want to get in your way!"

Christian lifted himself from the bed and leaned against the doorframe, watching Syed sweep down the hallway, smiling fondly as he remembered not to slam the insect screen behind him and closed it carefully, his heart brimming with love at his adorably sulky expression, yearning to kiss him back to laughter.

"I'm sorry my darling." Christian whispered as Syed stormed up the dirt track, disappearing from view behind one of the houses. "Strop home soon." With a sigh, he pressed at his temples with his knuckles and accepted that, no matter how much he wanted to run after Syed, make it better, let him know it had been a stupid idea, he had no choice but to leave him to stew. Resigned, he straightened his shoulders and called,

"Mum! Josef says you need to get up. Don't try and argue. I'm not in the mood."


	24. Chapter 24

"Sanctimonious, domineering, toss bag."

Out of breath from a stream of muttered ranting, Syed stopped and leant against the trunk of a pine tree. A bird, perched on a twig in a scrubby bush beside him, tipped its streaked head to one side, regarding him with bright inquisitive eyes.

"Not you." Syed said. "My irritating, aggravating, over protective, wonderful, sexy, twat of a husband…Oh shit, I'm talking to a bird." He glanced nervously around him to make sure there was nobody lurking in the undergrowth, witnessing his eccentric behaviour and heaved a sigh of relief on finding himself alone. With a flash of yellow from the feathers on its belly, the bird, seeming to Syed that it had decided it might be wise to escape from the crazy man, flapped rapidly towards the blue sky.

Syed squinted, raising his hand to cover his brow, watching its flight until it disappeared from view, feeling his temper evaporate with every wing flap. He thought of the tatty brown sparrows that twittered in the privet hedge outside their old flat, of England, of rain and cold, surprised by a wave of poignant nostalgia. He frowned, trying to imagine himself there without Christian and the prospect, the memories of the time they had already spent apart, made him shiver despite the heat.

"Nope." He decided, "Not going to happen, Clarkey." He kicked crossly at the ground, sending up a small cloud of dust and pine needles that trickled into his trainer, scratching against his toes. Flopping onto a fallen log, he took off his shoe and shook it, wiping at the sole of his foot. Grudgingly, he began to acknowledge that, just maybe, Christian's proposals contained some sense and came only from a place of care; guiltily recognising that he might have overreacted, allowed paranoia and fear to banish all reason.

Tying his laces, he twisted to look behind him, shocked at how far he had walked. The group of houses huddled, diminished, in the distance, the sea a thin sliver beyond them. He rose to retrace his steps, trudging along the track, guided by the sound of cars passing on the main road. In the gaps through the trees, he caught glimpses of tower blocks, miles away along the coast, shimmering in a haze, tantalising, like a strange alien city. He remembered the vibrancy, the people, the new sights and sensations, the sheer joy of experiencing it all with Christian and increased his pace, eager to be back by his side, excited by the prospect of making up.

"Yeah baby! You're so going to get it." He laughed and scrambled over a bank, through a tangle of branches, landing scratched and dishevelled on the roadside. He paused to get his bearings, pressing his hand against the back of his neck beneath his hair, feeling the dampness of sweat while he studied the parade of shops opposite. A garage, a barber's, a diner and a small convenience stood in a row and he wondered if they needed any milk, certain that Christian would have drunk it all, or if there might be something he could take home as a peace offering. He spotted bunches of flowers leaning drunkenly in a metal bucket, drooping in the sun and patted the pocket of his shorts, pleased when he heard the rattle of change. Waiting for a long, blue limousine to pass before he could cross, dimly registering that the driver appeared to be gesticulating at him, he noticed that the atmosphere had suddenly changed. It had become eerily quiet, no birdsong, no constant sibilant chirp of crickets and that the air felt cloying, leaden, making each footstep feel as if he were wading through porridge.

'Maybe I'm ill…' He mused. The metal sign outside the garage, advertising Bob's Premier Car Wash for only twelve dollars, began to swing on its hinges, emitting a high squeak that set his teeth on edge and the sky became ominously dark, as if someone had randomly flicked a switch. Alarmed, he gazed towards the horizon, where, over the ocean, a bank of black cloud seemed to unfurl, boiling, racing towards him. A blast of wind nearly knocked him down and he staggered forwards, hunting for something to grab onto, dodging the bucket of flowers as it cannoned towards him, rolling noisily along the pavement, leaving crushed petals in its wake. A horrible, irrational terror gripped at his insides, churning in his stomach, that he might be crushed by falling masonry, would die without telling Christian that he loved him, would leave him with only a stupid argument as his last memory. With a super human effort, he battled into the storm and threw himself onto the door of the diner, dragging it open and stumbling inside.

Roger put down his glass and lowered his newspaper, peering at him over the top of his reading glasses, his face creased with amusement.

"Hello son. Fancy a pint?"


	25. Chapter 25

"Hi,,, Mister, Rog,,, Hello." The door blew inwards, banging into Syed and he involuntarily lunged further into the Diner. "Thank you. I don't drink."

"Ah. I'm sure you do." Roger nodded towards a red plastic chair across the table from him, indicating he should sit. "Otherwise you would die. I didn't say a pint of what. What?"

"What?" Syed glanced nervously behind him and saw a large clump of palm leaves whip past the window, ripped from a tree by the force of the gale. Despite this, he still contemplated whether it might be preferable to be back in the storm.

"To drink? You don't want to be out in that, lad, so you might as well join me."

"Of course… Orange juice, please."

Smoothing down his wildly windswept hair, Syed crossed the sticky black and white tiled floor and obediently sat down.

"Maudie!" Roger barked and tutted when there was no response. The only other person present, a florid, cropped haired man, perched on stool at the zinc-topped bar, was studying Syed intently and he felt his mouth go dry under the scrutiny. He noticed that the man's heavily tattooed biceps, bulging from beneath the tightly rolled sleeves of a red checked shirt, made Christian's look almost puny in comparison. Syed considered smiling, giving a little wave, but opted to focus his attention on a menu card propped behind a jar of wooden toothpicks, in the hope that this might render him invisible and stop the man from staring. "Ed, where's the silly cow gone?" Roger asked and the man ponderously scratched his head.

"Out back. Checking the generator. Who's your friend?"

Syed glanced covertly at Roger's wrinkled, impassive face and clenched his hands tightly together in his lap, waiting, holding his breath for Roger's response. The unexpected friendly pat on his shoulder made him jump in surprise, banging his knee on the underside of the table and making the toothpicks jiggle and tinkle against the sides of the glass jar.

"This is Syed. My son in law, over from England."

Reeling with shock at Roger's casual and open description of him, Syed nervously regarded Ed's expression, perplexed by the change. He saw his short pug nose wrinkle, his thin lips purse, but couldn't define if he was seeing the beginnings of condemnation and outrage or the signs of some sort of crushing disappointment.

"Jane got wed again? You never mentioned."

'Aha!' Syed thought, 'Jane's got herself a fan. He lurrrves her.'

"No, Ed…" Roger winked conspiratorially at Syed and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "You going to tell him she's leaving and he doesn't stand a cat in hell's chance, or shall I?"

Confused, Ed raised a bottle of beer in his stubby fingers and took a swig. Wiping his lips with the palm of his hand, he said to Syed,

"Then you're her ex?"

Swallowing, Syed braced himself to endure censure. An image of Christian, proud, defiant and unashamed of who he was, came into his mind, giving him fortitude and he straightened his spine, conquering his uneasy trepidation to answer,

"No. I'm…"

"He's my boy Christian's fella." Roger cut in.

Syed narrowed his eyes, guarded, as Ed processed the information. A brief uncomfortable shift on his seat, a microscopic ripple of adjustment on his features and Ed seemed to adapt to the news, his cheerfulness and relief, that Syed was nothing to do with Jane, outweighing any latent prejudices. He took another slug of beer and nodded.

"Hey. Pleased to meet you. How're you liking this crazy weather?"

On cue, the flimsy wooden structure shuddered around them, the metal lights swung wildly overhead, bulbs flickering and dying with a flash and the Justin Bieber track, piping quietly away on the jukebox, came to an abrupt halt. Syed, unable to prevent himself from finishing the line of the song in his head, mentally added the final 'baby', with an 'ooh' for good measure, then a 'yay' that the power failing had finished it off.

"God damn it!" A woman's voice shouted from somewhere behind the bar, her cursing coming closer as she strode into view. "You'll be stoked, Rog, the beer's gonna be warm. Generator's screwed. Hey there! Who's this? I'm Maudie."

Any preconceptions Syed had held about the proprietress of Juanita's, an Hispanic vamp with ebony curls snaking across the shoulders of a low cut top, were rapidly dispelled by kind blue eyes, high cheekbones and straw blonde hair piled haphazardly and secured with several hairpins and a couple of paperclips. He took Maudie's thin hand; the nails decorated with sparkly silver, chipped, nail varnish and smiled, trying to gauge which side of forty she might be on.

"Syed. I'm married to Roger's son."

"Wow! Christian? Such a hunk!" She flapped at her cheek. "I've seen photographs. God knows where he gets those good looks from, eh, Roger. Must be Linda's genes."

The door banged open at the same time as a clap of thunder and a deluge of rain began to batter percussively onto the roof. Maudie raced to heave it shut, complaining bitterly,

"Freaking hell. I didn't expect you to get off your ass, Roger, but I thought you might have thought to bolt this, Ed…"

Before Ed had a chance to shamble from his stool, Syed went to help her, thoroughly bemused. He decided he must have strayed into a parallel universe, or been scooped up into a tornado and deposited in Oz. There was no other way he could explain how the irascible ogre that Christian portrayed appeared to have another incarnation as a kindly, witty man who seemingly proudly showed off pictures of his family

"No freaking warning for this one." Maudie slid the bolt firmly and frowned, pulling at the wet patch on the front of her grey cotton blouse. "Guess we're stuck ''til it's over. Who's having what?"

"Bourbon."

"Beer."

Syed, trying to see through the water streaming down the windowpanes, dimly registered Ed and Roger answering Maudie's question simultaneously

"I should go… Christian will be worried. Maybe I should ring…" He bit his lower lip, summoning the courage to brave the storm.

"Don't be daft." Roger downed the last of his pint and folded his arms, looking at Syed with pity for his foolish notion. "You're better off here. There won't be a signal and the lines will be down. Might as well just wait it out. They won't be fussed."

"Get yourself killed!" Ed chimed in helpfully with a strange glee. "Like Cody Gerhardt, last fall…"

Preoccupied with the certain knowledge that Christian would be frantic, desperate to know he was safe, probably on the point of making a heroic rescue attempt and putting himself in danger, Syed stopped listening. The droning anecdote, about someone he had never met, nor ever would after their sticky end in the path of a flying satellite dish, faded to a buzz in his ears. He shivered as a wave of love and concern jolted through him and he tried to send a psychic message, through the raging weather, down to the little house on the beach.

'Don't you dare do anything stupid, you wonderful numpty…'

"You play chess, lad?"

"Sorry?" Syed resurfaced from his reverie and blinked at Roger.

"Chess. There's a set somewhere. I've tried to play it with Ed, but the great lummox keeps forgetting the moves."

"Yes. I used to, at school, at chess club."

He remembered the draughty classroom, sent there by his mother every Wednesday, after classes, sitting studiously in his school uniform, while Michael sprawled on the daisy-starred grass outside the window. He grinned fondly at the memory of how he would randomly pop up, to pull faces and make rude gestures, trying to distract him and succeeding, hanging around waiting for him to finish, so they could get the bus home together.

"Good. Maudie, where's the chess set?"

Maudie plonked a bottle of Bourbon on the table in front of him.

"In the office. On top of the stack of chip boxes. You can get it yourself. Syed, you drinking?"

"Orange juice, please." Syed watched pensively as Roger dutifully strolled away, without any protestation, trying to fathom why he was so unhelpful in his own home, roaming like a strange intangible presence, wandering in and out, a stray tomcat, only there for food and comfort, yet relatively meek and compliant outside of it. A thin line appeared above the bridge of his nose as he pondered the dawning of a plan, one that might possibly relieve Christian of some of his burden, so simple, it seemed doomed to fail.

"Nah." He mused, "It's not my place."

"You okay? You look constipated. Linda's probably got something for that amongst all those pills she takes." Roger slid a wooden box onto the table and flicked the little brass catch on the side, opening it with a flourish that made the chess men rattle. Syed beamed, mustering his most engaging, charming smile, struggling to dismiss the vision of Christian, yelling, "you said what?" that had popped up. Inwardly wincing, expecting Roger to tell him where to go and exactly how to get there, he asked,

"I was just wondering. Have you ever considered doing more to help? I think they need you."


	26. Chapter 26

_**So sorry for the wait. xxx**_

* * *

"Were you any good?"

Roger's question disarmed Syed. He had prepared himself for indignant anger, as he knew his hope for a fairy tale dawning of realisation and the reply, "of course! I must do more!" was highly improbable. The conversational swerve, with no response at all, left him deflated; worried he may never find the opportunity, or courage, to challenge him again. Roger waved a white wooden chess piece at him and he gazed thoughtfully at the perfect circle of green felt on its base, shaking his head.

"Not really. I only did it for a term. My mum made me join loads of stuff where I might meet suitable boys and girls…"

"To get you away from the unsuitable ones?"

Syed laughed.

"Thankfully, she had no idea how unsuitable. All went pear shaped though. She was boasting about her clever son, leading light of the chess club, when her friend Bushra, pointed out, in front of everyone, that playing chess is considered haram…"

"Ha what?" Roger put down the last of the white pieces and began sorting out the black.

"Forbidden. In my faith."

"Really?" Roger studied the castle in his hand suspiciously, as if he were worried that it might sprout wings, catch on fire and propel itself into Syed's face. "Why?"

Syed slid his eyes to the King and shrugged, knowing that Roger wouldn't understand.

"Statues. And wasting time. Strangely, Ludo seemed to be exempt from any such rule in our house. Which was a shame, might have saved evenings of tortuous boredom…"

"It was Trivial Pursuit at ours." Roger said, sympathetically. "I used to get told off for not letting Christian win. Mind you…" He chuckled and began to remove the chessmen from the board. "…I was always being told off about something or another. I suppose Poker's out of the question?"

"Sorry. Don't know how anyway." Syed picked up a pawn, left unnoticed behind the bottle of Bourbon and twisted it between his fingers, smiling to himself at the recollection of an argument. Christian had been yelling, telling him it was a shame he didn't play, because he would clean up and be a millionaire, due to 'that ambiguous thing' he did, at which point, protesting that he had no idea what Christian meant, he had unwittingly done it and been thrown onto the bed to be punished with kisses.

"Shame." Roger took the pawn from Syed and dropped it with the other pieces, closing the box with a snap. "Doubt if Maudie's got Ludo. What did you do instead, when you got wrenched from Chess club?"

Syed narrowed his eyes and grinned. "Not so much wrenched as liberated. Swimming club. She had me down as a future Olympian. The unsuitable friend joined too. I mostly doggy paddled about in the shallow end while he showed off."

"Christian's a good swimmer."

"I know." A vision of strong arms, cutting through the water, droplets on smooth skin, taut thigh muscles, made Syed wriggle in his seat and glance towards the door, desperate to be with him. Another blast of wind rattled the glass in its frame and a dustbin lid arced through the air, crashing dangerously onto an abandoned car.

Maudie bustled over and deposited a fat red candle on an enamel plate between them.

"Here. Can't see a freaking thing, sky's so dark. You okay honey? I'd offer you something to eat, got a freezer full of steaks defrosting and no way to cook them. That generator was only fixed last month."

Getting a lighter from the top pocket of his shirt, Roger flicked it and lit the wick of the candle. He winked at Maudie and pulled out a cigar, enquiring with his eyes as to whether he could smoke it indoors. She pursed her lips and glared, hands on hips.

"No freaking way. You'll have to go outside. Good luck with that. Ed! Come and see if you can't help me fix this heap of junk."

Roger watched her stride across the Diner with Ed in tow, disappearing, cursing, to wreak vengeance on the generator and raised the cigar to his lips with a mischievous glint in his eye. The flickering flame, guttering in the whispers of wind that seeped in from outside, sent shadows over his skin, deepening the grooves, making him look as if he were carved from rock, eroded by the elements. Studying him, Syed thought of the Grand Canyon, of the president's heads on Mount Rushmore, wistfully wondering if he would ever get to see them, or just the inside of Miami airport again before he started the long journey back to England.

Sighing, Roger abandoned his impishness and tucked the cigar, unlit, into the pocket on the front of his beige shirt.

"Women. Your mum a bit of a battle axe then?"

Syed bridled at the insult, his jaw setting defiantly.

"No! She's kind, funny, caring…." The evidence of other behaviour flooded to the forefront of his mind, fond absence unable to deny it and his mouth twitched into a reluctant grin. "…interfering, opinionated, stubborn."

"Sounds like Linda. She get on all right with my boy?"

"Brilliantly, now." Stating the fact aloud, made Syed pause for a moment, marvelling at how such a thing could have ever come to pass and Roger regarded him sympathetically.

"Gang up on you, do they?" He swirled the Bourbon in his glass, the candlelight making it glitter, matching the colour of Syed's troubled eyes. "I know that feeling."

"I'm sure Christian and Linda don't mean to."

Roger laughed hollowly and took a large swig of the drink. Looking pitifully at Syed as if he were a poor, strange fool who had just suggested that the earth was flat, not noticing the lack of conviction in his statement, he said patiently,

"You don't know the half of it. Ah well, I suppose it was my own fault. I was working away a lot when he was a boy, let her spoil him, make me the enemy. Always ready to take offence that one, so damned touchy and proud. I learned to keep my mouth shut and let him believe what he wants. I wasn't impressed by him going after his sister's husband the way he did and I won't lie, I'd rather he wasn't that way inclined, but he is and he's still my son, regardless. At least now, he seems to have calmed down a bit, since he found you. Must be all he needed, someone to challenge him enough to keep him interested, someone to love. I'm well aware that he's never going to feel anything other than contempt for me, that's how it is. I can live with it."

"Oh I'm sure he…" At the sight of Roger's sternly arched eyebrow, Syed trailed away, knowing he was fooling no one, that any protestations he tried to make, any attempt to claim that Christian had no issues with his father at all, would be as flimsy as gossamer. He twisted a strand of his hair between his fingertips, venturing quietly, "It's not too late for things to change, is it? All pull together as a family. Do you think, maybe, now Linda's unwell, she might be better off going home?"

"She is home. She wanted to come here. It was her dream."

"Was it?" Defeated, Syed found a little comfort in having tried, but an overwhelming sense of tiredness washed over him and he slumped in his seat, the plastic squeaking against the back of his knees, a sad little noise of failure. "I suppose you must love it here. Why would you ever want to leave."

A clap of thunder overhead shook the walls and deadpan, Roger remarked,

"You have to admit the weather's nice. It's okay here, lad. I like the golf course, this place does a nice rib eye. It's not Shangri La, nowhere is. Basically, I just want a quiet life. If she wants to go back to England, she only has to ask."


	27. Chapter 27

"I know, mum, but you have to try."

Christian inhaled very slowly through his nose and counted to ten under his breath.

"I am trying." He hated the plaintive wheedle in his mother's voice as she tried to push her foot against his hand, hated her helpless weakness and hated himself for resenting her for it.

"Just three more and I'll make us both a sandwich."

'And then I'll go and look for Sy.' He glanced at the time displayed on the clock radio impatiently and wished he could hear the door slam, familiar footsteps down the hallway, his name spoken in a special way, the way only Syed could say it, instead of the annoyingly faint warble of a country and western song. He smiled as he made out the lyrics 'you ripped my heart like a band aid and the sticky marks won't go' and gently lowered Linda's leg onto the mattress.

"That'll do for now."

Petulantly, Linda twitched the covers over and pursed her lips.

"You don't do it properly. Josef does it better. It hurts now."

"I did it exactly the same way as he showed me. I'm only trying to help. I can't if you won't let me. Why is it so dark in here? Can't see a bloody thing. Do you have to have the curtains drawn all day?" Christian fought down his temper, aware that it stemmed from the sadness at seeing his strong, controlling mother so helpless and reliant, sensing her frustration, the wrongness of their reversed roles. He clicked at the switch on the frilly shaded lamp, frowning when nothing happened and the room remained ominously dim. The radio fizzled with static and died, rudely cutting the cowboy's lament short. He crossed to the window and pulled open the curtains just as a swirl of sand buffeted the glass and the room shook.

"What the fuck?"

"Christian! Language!"

Christian took a step backwards, still holding onto the fabric and pulling some of the plastic hooks from the pelmet, as the sky opened and a torrent of rain blanked out the view.

"It's a f… an apocalypse." Fear clutched at his throat and he felt an automatic impulse deep in the muscles in his legs, an urge to race outside and find Syed.

"Storm." Linda said querulously and pushed herself up against the pillows, nervously clutching at the neck of her nightie. "Close the shutters. Oh god, I hope we don't flood again! Where are Roger and Jane?"

"Jane's next door with Esther. I have no idea where dad is. I've got to find Sy. He's out in this…"

"You can't leave me!" He turned and saw the panic in Linda's eyes. Reaching behind the curtains, he grabbed at the shutters and closed them. Even though he had hidden the sight of the storm, there was no escape from the noise, rattling at the roof tiles, wind whining under the eaves, the occasional crash as garden furniture swept around, propelled in a random dance and intermittent smashes as chimney pots came free from the mortar and hurtled to the ground.

"I'll get Jane to come home and sit with you. It's just a bit of weather." Christian sat on the bed and picked up Linda's hand, soothingly stroking it between his own, failing miserably to convince himself.

"You can't go out in this! You'll be killed!"

A wave of nausea made Christian rock slightly, an image of Syed, lying broken under fallen masonry, so stark and vivid in his mind that his eyes sparked with tears. Mustering strength, he kept up an appearance of calm.

"It's only next door. I'll bring her home to sit with you while I go and get Syed."

"And your father."

With a frisson of guilt, Christian realised he hadn't given Roger's safety a thought, assuming he was indestructible, bound to be holed up warm and snug somewhere, insinuating his way in, like a resourceful alley cat.

"Dad…" He murmured and stood, leaning over Linda, gently kissing her soft, lined cheek. "…I'll be a minute, don't worry."

"Shit!"

Christian swiftly sidestepped a passing, flying, hanging basket and stepped into a swamp of damp sand. Levering his foot free, the sand sucking against his skin and claiming one of his flip flops, he put his head down and fought into the wind, using the strength of his shoulders to propel himself the last few yards to Esther's front door. He staggered up the steps onto the porch and hammered against the door with his fists, yelling above the cacophony,

"JANE! LET ME IN!"

The door opened a crack and Jane gaped at him in shock before gripping the front of his wet vest and dragging him in, the pair of them wrestling to heave the door shut behind him.

"Christian! What the hell are you doing? What have you done with mum? Is she all right?"

Christian squinted, trying to adjust to the gloom of Esther's sitting room. A hurricane lamp on a large oak sideboard, decoratively carved with a ribbon of birds and fruit, flickered light across a mass of family photographs, children, grandchildren, great grandchildren all beaming at him with eyes alight with pleasure, seeming to wait politely for his answer. Esther, too, comfortable in an armchair, a crocheted blanket, squares of green and orange, draped over her knees, peered at him over the top of her spectacles, mildly expectant.

"Everything okay, honey?"

"Hello Esther. She's fine. I haven't done anything with her." Christian rubbed at his wet hair.

Esther stirred, reaching for the stick beside her, intent on getting him a towel but Jane motioned for her to remain seated.

"Why have you come out in this, you fool?" Jane tutted and left the room, returning with a pink towel that she hurled crossly at Christian.

"I need you to come back. I have to find Sy, he stropped off and I'm worried about him."

"He isn't with mum? Is dad there? Please tell me you haven't left her on her own."

Abashed by his sister's outrage, Christian dabbed at his face, using the towel as a flimsy shield, while he thought of what to say to calm her down.

"I don't know where dad is, probably warm and cosy, getting pissed with a crony. I've only been gone a minute. Please. I really need to go and look for him."

"And abandon Esther?" Jane ignored Esther's muttered protestation that she would be fine, that it was only a little bit of weather. "For god's sake, what have you two argued about now? So bloody sensitive that one."

Christian pursed his lips, offended by the insult to Syed.

"No he isn't… Well, he can be. I suggested he went to England with you, when you leave."

"What? Christian, you idiot. Why? No wonder he was upset! Did you say it to test him?"

"No! I thought it would be for the best, rather than him having to hang around while I take care of mum…"

Jane rolled her eyes.

"You're not taking very good care of her now. Why would he want to be anywhere without you? That must have hurt him for you to even suggest it…"

Wilting under the onslaught of Jane's railing, Christian hung his head, beginning to believe he might be the worst husband on the planet, possibly even the universe, that there were probably three headed aliens, living on the planet Zog, who made a better job of it than he did.

"…Honestly, your relationship is exhausting as an onlooker, lord knows how the pair of you can stand it, all this fighting…"

"No doubt the making up is real sweet, eh honey?"

Christian smiled gratefully at the truth of Esther's quiet comment and felt a tension in his chest, scared that, this time, he might never get the chance. He attempted to stifle the sob pressing to burst from his mouth and Jane heard his strangulated hiccup, racing to be by his side in a flash, wrapping her arms around him.

"Oh Christian, don't cry. I'm sorry. You have to go back to mum. He'll be fine. He'll have found somewhere safe to shelter."

Weeping against her neck, Christian managed to blurt between sodden sniffles,

"But what if he hasn't? What if he dies thinking I wanted him gone?"


	28. Chapter 28

_**Hello! Sorry for the wait, I've done my back in. :( Hope it's okay, there will be more. :) xxx**_

* * *

"Will you come away from that window! What if the wind blows the shutters in?"

"Then I will get a smack in the face." Christian muttered wearily, too quietly for Linda to hear and took one final squint through the thin gap between the slats, grimly accepting that he wasn't going to see a lithe figure battling through the elements, dark hair whipping about his beloved, beautiful face, heading home to meet him. He turned towards his mother and summoned the semblance of a smile.

"Fancy a cuppa?" He asked, raising his voice, fighting to make himself heard above the clap of thunder that had made her wince nervously and almost disappear beneath the covers.

"Oh god! It's overhead now, isn't it? What did you say?"

'If it's over us and Sy isn't here, then at least it isn't over him…' Christian found scant comfort in the thought. Curling his hands into fists, he dug his fingernails painfully into his palms, attempting to chase away the image of Syed, alone in the storm, hurting and angry.

"Tea. Do you want some?"

Linda peeked over the top of the quilt and frowned, regarding him as if she had raised an imbecile.

"There isn't any power. The kettle won't work." She pointed out patiently.

Echoing her tone, Christian responded tartly,

"I can boil water in a saucepan, mother. The gas is still on. There are matches."

"Such a resourceful boy. Yes…" Linda flushed and wriggled uncomfortably. "No. Better not. I might need… You know."

"Do you want me to get your…"

The strange niceties, each of them embarrassed, skirting around the basic bodily needs, the parenting roles weirdly blurred, both irritated and amused Christian. He ran through a list of euphemisms in his mind, until, with a snort of laughter, he dispensed with Wazz Pan, deciding it might be a tad too crude and opted for the one he found the silliest.

"Potty?"

Linda blanched, flustered and met his eyes, preparing to be offended. The impish gleam she saw in them, briefly eclipsing the heavy veil of sadness and worry, touched her heart and she grinned.

"Josef calls it my Madame Du She Wee. I'm fine. We could play a game. Go and get the Trivial Pursuit. It should be in the cupboard in the sitting room."

"Trivial Pursuit? I'll win. I always used to trounce you, Jane and Dad."

Reaching across the bed, Linda took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Of course you did, dear." She said indulgently. "It'll be just like old times."

"Balls!" Christian cursed, when, despite his careful manoeuvring, a pile of papers and boxes fell onto the carpet as he prised the Trivial Pursuit box out from under them. He deposited the box onto the sofa and squatted beside the cupboard; haphazardly stuffing envelopes, old newspapers and, what appeared to be a thousand years of bank statements, back on the shelf. The corner of a blue booklet caught his eye, a glimpse of a familiar crest igniting a memory and a slight frisson of fear. He pulled it out, wriggling down in the small gap between the furniture to lie on his stomach and tentatively opened the cover.

Faded ink scrawled across the thin white leaves and he frowned, struggling to decipher his teacher's writing. When he worked out that it read; '_Christian always gives one hundred per cent' _he pulled a smug face that rapidly changed to one of distaste at the rest of the sentence. '_Despite it being apparent he has no real grasp of the subject.' _

"Screw you, Mister Hanigan." He muttered crossly and licked his thumb, quickly turning the page. The next few entries cheered him, extolling his virtues, especially the final one, which made him bark with laughter.

"Christian should try and involve himself more with the other boys… Oh don't you worry Miss; I did, so very hard and so very often, with an excellent grasp of their subjects and now I have my own special boy…" He shut the school report, trying to convince himself that the storm outside had abated, that the howling gale had somehow lessened. Wedging the booklet under a copy of Golfing Today, dated 2004, he shut the cupboard door and sighed. Conceding unhappily that there had been no change in the constant pounding of the rain on the roof or the whistling whine of the wind, he levered himself upright and grabbed the Trivial Pursuit.

* * *

"I think it's dying down."

Roger narrowed his eyes and looked at Syed in disbelief.

"Do you?"

Syed correctly detected the true meaning of the comment, aware that Roger had wanted to add, "Are you mad?" and answered,

"Maybe a little bit?"

He jumped in his seat, startled as the lights above his head flickered into life and the cowboy resumed his lament on the jukebox. He and Roger exchanged smiles as Maudie let out a high-pitched whoop from the back room.

"Yee freaking ha indeed." Roger pushed the chess box away from him, across the table and replaced it with his newspaper. Carefully smoothing the edges flat, he picked up his pen and thoughtfully tapped the end against his bottom teeth. Syed fidgeted, wondering if Roger had tired of his company and if this was his cue to leave. He wanted to grab the opportunity, take advantage of the hiatus in conversation to leg it at maximum speed through the tempest and be with Christian again. He resolutely pushed back his chair and slapped his hands on his knees.

"Well then…"

Maudie, with Ed in tow appeared behind the bar and punched the air triumphantly.

"Fixed the son of a bitch!" She announced proudly. "Syed, will you have another juice? I can get you something to eat, if you're hungry."

"No thank you. I think I'll be off…" Syed glanced nervously towards the window, noting with dismay that it was still bucketing down with rain outside.

"You can't go out in that darling! Wait awhile. I know Rog is a boring bastard, but you don't have to risk life and limb to get away from him."

"Charming." Unoffended, Roger put on his glasses and studied the crossword clues. "One down. We hear foot complaint makes religious man go forward."

Maudie, Syed and Ed regarded him in bemused silence, awaiting an explanation. He looked at each of them in turn, letting his gaze linger on Syed with the hint of a smile curling the corner of his thin lips.

"You take care, lad. Maybe tomorrow, if there's anything left of the course, you might want to play a round of golf with me?"

A thousand things he'd rather do, including having his chest waxed or his testicles nibbled by piranhas, ran through Syed's mind, but the unexpected invitation touched him and he grinned.

"I'd like that."

Forehead creased with concern, Maudie bundled Ed out of her way and tried to block Syed's path to the door.

"You'll be drenched! Rog, tell him to stay!"

"Stop fussing woman. Lend him an umbrella. Ha! He can float home like Mary Poppins. It's up to him what he does. I'm sure Syed's a man who knows his own mind."

Obviously bored of them all, Roger turned his full attention to the crossword, intent on solving the clue. Pensively studying the thinning strands of hair, brushed carefully across the crown of his bowed head, it dawned on Syed that, maybe, finally, he was. The realisation, washing across him with a soothing warmth, that despite all of his past vacillations, flip flopping, shilly-shallying, changing track more terrifyingly than a runaway train, there was one sure and certain thing in his life. A rock at the very centre of his being that held him safe and secure.

"Begins with C. Nine letters. Got it!" Roger grinned, raised his pen and slowly filled in the blank spaces, saying each letter aloud.

"C.H.R.I.S.T.I.A.N."


	29. Chapter 29

"Seriously? That's your answer?"

Exasperated, Christian impatiently flicked at the card in his hand. Linda nodded vehemently, the movement perilously rocking the board on the bed between them.

"Yes Chris." She insisted, "That's my final answer."

Sighing, Christian prodded at one of the small plastic triangles and found himself randomly fancying a piece of cheese.

"Stop saying that, we're not playing Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. So, you think that the dog the Russians sent into space was called Lassie? You're not trying."

"I'm not trying?" Linda pursed her lips huffily. "I'm not the one that keeps scuttling off to the front door and letting in all that terrible wind and rain. It'll ruin the mat. You're probably looking up the answers on the wiffy on your phone."

"On the what? Oh! It's Wi fi mother." Christian narrowed his eyes and studied his mother's deadpan, serious expression. The corner of his mouth twitched with amusement and he spotted an echo of the gesture, a tiny reveal on her poker face. "Now I know you're winding me up. Shall we call it a draw? You look tired."

"No, no. You're winning. I'm fine."

Her puffy eyelids were drooping, despite her game efforts to appear alert, so Christian ignored her protestations and tipped the pieces from the board into the box. He shuffled the cards before neatly stowing them in their compartment and resolutely pushed down the dog-eared lid, shutting the game, the motion causing a strange grinding fart noise as cardboard slid against cardboard, expelling a spurt of air.

"Mater! Was that you? How rude."

Linda made a feeble attempt to hit him on the arm but the effort proved too much and she slumped against the pillows.

"Saucy sod…" She yawned and Christian rose to tuck her in, making sure that she was comfortable, solicitously smoothing the hair from her forehead.

"That's me. Sauciest sod known to mankind." He agreed. "You rest now. When you wake up the storm will be over."

'And Syed will be home safe and sound…' He winced inwardly, a flicker of doubt challenging his comforting thought, the prospect that any other outcome might be possible making the hairs on his arms rise, a cold chill peppering his skin with goose bumps.

"Laika…" Linda mumbled, losing the fight against sleep. Christian waited until her breathing became deeper, settling into a steady pattern and rose quietly, leaving the door slightly ajar, creeping out to recommence his compulsive, forlorn, checking for signs of Syed return.

Syed hesitated on the threshold of the Diner, gaining a little shelter from the roof's overhang and the letters of the red neon sign. He automatically huddled down, mentally turning up the collar of a raincoat that he wasn't wearing. He remembered an old lady he had seen, one miserable afternoon in Albert Square, scuttling through the gardens with a plastic Minute Mart carrier bag on her head, a makeshift, pointless, protection from the unrelenting drizzle.

He had kept hold of the door handle, giving himself the option to retreat into the dry safety and wondered if he should pop back in and ask for something similar, then reminded himself that the equivalent would probably be a brown paper bag that would swiftly turn to a papier-mâché mush in the driving rain. Building up to the point of hurtling out into the storm, he stumbled as the door opened suddenly and Maudie squeezed through to stand beside him. She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to stop the thin material of her shirt from flapping and peered at him with troubled eyes.

"Come inside. Give it a little while longer." She pleaded.

"No. I can't" Syed stated, more firmly than he felt. "Christian will be going off his head with worry."

"Aw. Does he fret about you?"

"With good reason. I have a tendency to attract trouble."

"Really?" Maudie raised her eyebrows with interest. "What kinda trouble?"

"Oh, just stuff. Ceilings falling on my head, men knocking me over in burning pubs, losing my memory, getting myself into muddles…" Syed shifted uncomfortably and looked towards the sky to avoid her gaze.

"Sheesh, that place you come from sounds dangerous! How did he escape unscathed?"

"Oh he didn't…" Syed said quietly and turned to smile sadly at her. "He took a fair few beatings."

"Really? Bit of a fighter is he?"

"Ha! Christian? No, yes…" Syed's heart constricted with love, making him breathless for a moment. "Not physically, not punch ups, he's a pussycat. But other ways. He's a strong, strong man and he fought for me. Relentlessly, no matter how much I tried to push him away…" Suddenly shy and embarrassed to be sharing confidences with a stranger, he stopped abruptly, biting his lower lip, eager to get away.

"Then no wonder you want to get back to him." Maudie raised her hand and pointed towards the sea, where the black clouds were beginning to retreat, thinning, showing sparse glimpses of a pale grey. "Looks like it's blowing itself out. We've got off lightly this time. God rest the poor souls who don't…"

"Yes." They were both silent for a while, contemplating the terrible alternatives that the storm could have brought, until Syed grinned sweetly and confessed,

"I've got this ridiculous notion that if I run really quickly I won't get so wet. Daft really, I told Christian off once, for driving too fast because we were low on petrol."

"Ha ha! I do that on the sewing machine when the thread's running out, put my foot down on that pedal." She laughed in understanding.

"My mum does that too. Anyhow…" He shook out his arms, limbering up, preparing for his flight. "…Here goes. Wish me luck!"

Maudie hugged herself more tightly and watched him race away. Deciding it was rain in her eyes and that she wasn't a sentimental old fool, she called after him,

"Don't think you need it, think you're lucky enough already!"

Christian paced listlessly around the house, finally ending up in the gloomy, now totally misnamed, sunroom. He scowled at the upended wicker sofa and went to lean his forehead against the cool glass of the window. His eyes followed the sway of the palm tree in the garden, mesmerised by the movement, wishing it would soothe him, but each switch of direction just summoned another horrible picture of Syed lying helpless and broken. On the point of dragging himself away, hoping to force himself into doing something useful to kill the time and try to block out the fretting, he felt all of his senses heighten. He stiffened, as if he were a wild animal, alert to a scent on the wind, swiftly turned on his heel and sprinted down the hallway to fling open the front door.

Far in the distance, a little speck coming ever closer, pelting down the track through the houses as if his life depended on it, hair plastered close to his head, sodden clothes clinging to his body, Syed frantically waved a greeting and running out to meet him, Christian whooped with joy.


	30. Chapter 30

"You're rubbing too hard!"

Christian lifted the corner of the red towel and smirked at Syed's disgruntled face scowling from beneath it, scrunched up like an angry toddler.

"You weren't saying that in the shower!" He laughed.

"Such a hilarious and unexpected riposte. My hair's going to go all fluffy. It'll look like candy floss by the time you've finished." Whipping the towel from his head and out of Christian's grasp, Syed used a corner of it to wipe the steam from the bathroom mirror, before wrapping it tightly around his waist. He peered crossly at his reflection and pressed his damp hair down, tutting at the unruly strands.

Christian unhooked his mother's bright pink dressing gown from the back of the door and squeezed himself into it, his biceps straining the seams, the sleeves ending just below his elbows. He stood behind Syed, slipping his arms around his waist. Leaning his chin on his shoulder, he pressed his cheek against his ear and smiled.

"You look adorable. Funny how the power came on the minute you reappeared…"

"That's because I'm made of magic." Syed gave up the battle with his hair and raked it upwards into peaks, puffing out his cheeks and sticking out his tongue. He leaned closer against Christian and briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the delicious memory of the moment he had seen him belting up the track towards him. He felt again the impact of Christian's body, making him buckle and almost fall, the welcome pressure of his mouth, the rain drenching them both, wild wind seizing away their words of love, the taste of salt from their mutual tears.

Christian had dragged him into the house, making elaborate hushing motions as they passed Linda's room while he tried to stop giggling with pleasure. Sodden clothes were ripped off, hurled unceremoniously to the floor and under the gush of the, miraculously and unexpectedly, hot water from the showerhead, they had made up in the way they knew best.

Christian nipped at Syed's earlobe and murmured,

"You are made of magic and wonder and fire and sexy. I was so worried."

Twisting around, perching his buttocks against the edge of the sink, Syed ran his fingers down the fabric of the pink dressing gown, letting the velvety nap change direction under his touch.

"I know. You didn't need to be. I was all safe and sound in Juanita's Diner. With your dad…"

He narrowed his eyes slightly, studying Christian's expression, hoping for signs of relief. He noticed them, a little flicker, a hardly perceptible shift, a subtle relaxing of his jaw, all swiftly hidden and was glad.

"Really? How ghastly. He's survived then? That'll put mum's mind at ease."

"And yours too? Surely?"

"Yeah, well…" Christian curled the corner of his lip and shrugged dismissively in response. "…Got nine lives, him. He'll always be okay."

"He won't, Christian. Not always."

The poignancy of Syed's gentle truth surprised Christian and he struggled to dismiss a wave of sadness, for a future that held no certainty for anyone. He stroked down Syed's hair, tidying it carefully and thoughtfully.

"Maybe not… You could have stayed until the storm passed. I would have waited."

"I think you've waited long enough for me, one way or another. Anyway, I didn't want the prospect of you working yourself up into a tizzy and bursting a blood vessel on my conscience, plus I had visions of you trying to do something ridiculously heroic."

"I did. I played Trivial Pursuit with my mother; you can't get more ridiculously heroic than that."

"Ha! I bet you won." Syed felt himself start to grin, remembering Roger's admission and hid his face against Christian's chest.

"I always win. To be honest, our hearts weren't in it. Fretting stopped play. I wanted to come and rescue you but I couldn't leave mum on her own."

Lifting his head, Syed frowned and gave Christian a gentle tap on the end of his nose.

"I didn't need rescuing. You would have been blundering about wailing, being hit on the head by flying palm trees while I was perfectly sorted, getting chummy with my mate Rog." His stomach emitted a little grumble, followed by a long, high-pitched bubbling, that heightened musically until it tailed away like the sound of a deflating balloon, making them laugh.

"Hungry?" Christian asked. Slightly chastened that his visions of himself as an all-conquering superhero had been shattered and replaced with one of a cartoon buffoon, having to peel his flattened form from the tarmac to the background music of bleating trumpets, he stooped to retrieve their clothes from the floor, methodically piling them up.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Noticing that Christian seemed subdued, Syed reached to take his hand and missed the target, giving the reassuring squeeze to the soaking pair of pants he held by mistake, sending little drips sploshing onto the floor. "You would have been awesome, magnificent. If you still fancy being my knight in shining armour, you could make me a sandwich."

"I'll try. If you think I can manage the butter knife without inadvertently stabbing myself…"

"I'll make sure you don't sustain a nasty bread accident, hurt yourself on a crumb…" Syed jumped clear as a pair of pants flew at him, aimed at his head. Deftly catching them, he twirled them around twice and slapped them against the back of Christian's thighs. "Howzat! Ow, no don't! Haaa!" Breathless under the onslaught of all the other clothes, a loofah and a dyspeptic looking rubber duck, Syed grabbed a flowery plastic shower cap and waved it in submission. "Stop it! I give in."

"I'm sorry."

"I should think so! That duck nearly smacked me in the balls."

Christian crossed and slid his hand gently down Syed's right arm, finding his fingers and curling them gently around his own, suddenly serious.

"Not about that. Though I would have been, obviously, for selfish reasons, if it had. About saying you should leave with Jane. I didn't want you to."

"I shouldn't have lost my rag. It just made me feel useless, that you didn't think I'd be any help, rubbish at supporting you…" Syed looked down at their toes, nearly touching, close on the patterned linoleum.

Shocked, Christian tipped at Syed's chin, raising it to make him meet his eyes.

"You are so wrong! Sy, who helped me when I was beaten and defeated, stuck in the flat, scared to go outside? You did. Only you. Only you" He repeated it firmly, needing Syed to believe him. "I was being an arse and a martyr, trying to decide what was best for you…"

"Trying to keep everyone happy and failing miserably?" Syed grinned impishly. "Surely that's my job? I was never going to go, anyway. Listen to you? Let you boss me about? Sorry Clarkey. Not going to happen. You're stuck with me. We're in this together. The carer needs someone to care for them when the bedpans send him over the edge. My go to suffer some infuriating in laws. Speaking of which…" It struck Syed that some sort of diversionary tactic might be required before he continued, so he subtly adjusted the towel, revealing his hipbones, the v of ligaments that led down to his groin and let his mouth soften seductively. "…Roger asked me to play golf with him tomorrow, but you're going instead. For me."

Christian's gaze, that Syed had effectively managed to manipulate, making it instantly and powerlessly focus on the revealed, tantalising, skin, snapped abruptly upwards and his pupils, wide with lust, shrank to their normal size.

"What? Please god, no. That's torture. Is this some sort of penance? I can't anyway. I need to look after mum."

"I'll look after her. I'd like to have a proper chat. Find out all your dreadful teenage secrets. Get her to show me pictures of you with an extensive array of embarrassing haircuts."

'And ask her a question.' He kept the thought to himself, aware that Christian would want to know what it might be, would nag at him until he gave in and dissuade him from his slowly forming plan. "Do it 'cause you love me." He batted his eyelashes and Christian pouted petulantly.

"Hmm." He grumbled, beginning to tidy up the mess, crossly shooting a dirty look at the rubber duck as he plonked it onto the side of the bath. "It's a big ask."

"Who's got a big arse?" Syed watched fondly as Christian re-gathered their fallen clothes, the cord of his mother's dressing gown dangling loose behind him like a long pink tail. "I suppose…" He stopped, wondering if he should continue, if it were necessary to share the rest of his musing.

"What do you suppose?" Christian asked glumly. "That I'm going to brain my father with a nine iron or run him over in one of those little carts?" Surprised by the lack of response, he paused and put his head to one side inquisitively, concerned at Syed's pensive air.

"Sy?"

"Nothing."

"Oh piss off with the 'nothing', it's so annoying. Spill. You suppose?"

Syed smiled.

"If you were suggesting I took the flight home with Jane, I suppose I should realise that you trust me. That we're all right."

"Come here, you twat." Christian sighed and pulled him close. "We're more than all right, we're brilliant and I trust you and love you, you're my beautiful boy and without you, my life would be a meaningless, empty hell. Cheese?"

"Bit." Syed nodded, nuzzling against Christian's broad chest. "But I like it."

"Eh?" The force of Christian's bellow of laughter made Syed's skull vibrate. "I meant in your sandwich, cheeky git."

"Yes please. And while you're making it, I'll sort out all your, allegedly, non golfing type clothes and give them an iron."


End file.
